Jurassic World: Mutation
by GoAskAlice137
Summary: Ren Howlett feels trapped. Even with her father by her side for the first time, the X-Men's wild child needs a break, and she finds it at Jurassic World. Enter Owen Grady, who understands predators on a rarefied level. She is drawn to him and his pack of raptors, but complications arise when InGen wants to turn them into weapons. Weapons like Ren. Full summary inside! (Owen/OC)
1. Dear Reader

***IMPORTANT NOTE TO THE READER***

Dear Reader,

So, technically, this story is a crossover between _Jurassic World_ and the X-Men Cinematic Universe.

That being said, most of this story actually takes place at Jurassic World, which is why I decided to categorize it here and not put it in the Crossovers' section. As much as I love the fact that has given crossovers their own spot, I feel like they don't get as much traffic as the normal stories because people have to search for a specific crossover instead of just stumbling onto a great story.

But, I promise not much knowledge of the X-Men Movies is really required. I'll tell you most of what you need to know. However, if you are an X-Men fan, I hope you enjoy my take on the story.

As for when this story take place on the timelines, it starts a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of _X-Men: Days of Future Past_. There will be no connection to _Logan_. Read the summary below for a full synopsis.

 **FULL SUMMARY:**

 **Ren Howlett has had a rough couple of years. After being kidnapped by the Weapon X program, having her brain scrambled and her skeleton coated in Adamantium, she needs a serious break. Life as an X-Man, it turns out, is not nearly as glamorous as you might think. Even with her biological father by her side for the first time in her life, the X-Mansion's resident wild child can't help but feel trapped. Desperate for independence, she finds an escape at the globally famous Jurassic World. The job is nothing thrilling, just waiting tables at the hotel restaurant, but it will give her the space that she needs. Enter Owen Grady; a man who understands feral predators on a higher level than anyone Ren has ever known. She immediately finds herself drawn to him and his pack of Velociraptors, but serious complications arise with InGen's interference. The massive corporation is hell bent on taking the island's genetic specimens and turning them into weapons. But, Renegade has been down that particular road before, and she is not about to just stand by and watch as it happens again.**

Reviews are always appreciated.

Much love,

GoAskAlice137

P.S. This story is rated T for language and adult situations. Later chapters may be rated M for mature content.

P.S.S. All _X-Men_ characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. Though, some mutants may be added that are not in the movies. All characters from _Jurassic World_ belong to Universal Pictures. And, I own all original characters.

 ***IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE:**

My original character's claws are in the same formation as Laura Kinney/X-23's from the comics: two on each hand, and one on each foot. However, those are the only similarities between the two, though I suppose an argument could be made that they look similar, but they are 'related' in a sense.

There are some major differences between the two: X-23's skeleton is just bone, with only her claws coated in Adamantium. My OC's skeleton has been completely coated in Adamantium by Weapon X, just like Wolverine. Also, she is not a clone like X-23, but is Wolverine's illegitimate daughter, and thus has his abilities. But, all that being said, I chose to put her claws in the same spots as X-23's for a _very_ specific reason, which I'm sure will become clear later in the story.


	2. Prologue

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is Rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 ***Re-edited 4/20/2018  
**

* * *

 **Jurassic World: Mutation**

"Sharing the world has never been humanity's defining attribute."

-Professor Charles Xavier

 **Prologue**

She was careful not to drop the heavy cardboard box in her arms, balancing it awkwardly as she climbed the metal staircase, twisting her way around the exterior cage and up to the top of the massive, octagonal enclosure.

Renegade Howlett had caught Owen Grady's scent the instant she had stepped out of her Jeep, giving her step a new vigor as she had lifted the case of boxed-lunches and headed towards the concrete walls. Even with the rich smell of the jungle jumbled with the paddock's inhabitants, not to mention the dozen other men trouncing about the site, she could still smell him. His scent was unmistakable; a delicious mixture of Ivory soap, engine grease, and something sweet that was just uniquely him. She was not sure why she found it so comforting, or why her heart rate seemed to increase every time she caught it, but all she could think about in that moment had been reaching the top and seeing him waiting there.

"Ah!" She heard Barry exclaim in his smooth French accent as she stepped up onto the metal walkway, turning to her with a dazzling grin, "You're an angel."

Ren chuckled softly, setting the box down on the small folding table next to the large cooler full of bottled water. She dug through the packages, pulling a Styrofoam container free and holding it out to him, "Patty-melt. Extra cheese. Extra fries."

"Like I said," His grin widened, his teeth standing out brilliantly against his dark skin as he took the food, "You're an angel."

She returned his smile readily with one of her own, watching him open the container and stuff a French fry into his mouth.

An unfamiliar smell suddenly wafted under her nose. She sniffed, frowning as she muttered to herself, "Pig?"

Almost instantly, a terrified squealing erupted from down within the paddock.

"Aw!" Barry gasped, his mouth still full of food as he quickly dropped his lunch back onto the table, "I guess we're doing this now, huh?"

"What...?" Ren began, but she let her question trail off as she caught sight of Owen on the other side of the enclosure, moving briskly along the opposite wall.

His steady gaze was fixed securely on the rapid movement below. Ren noted with a slight flush in her cheeks that the light blue of his cotton shirt made the color of his eyes even more intense than usual. He had his sleeves fastened above his elbows, and his leather keeper's vest was open in the front, flapping as he leapt onto the catwalk that crossed over the enclosure. His boots sounded heavily on the grate as he jogged out onto the section furthest from her. She watched intently as he took a deep breath, before slowly letting it out.

Ren hurriedly followed Barry, her heart beating loudly with excitement as she moved closer to the railing and looked down with a wide grin on her face.

The Velociraptors were on the move.

All four of the beautiful predators were currently snapping at the heels of a very unfortunate pig, squealing at the top of its lungs as it raced through the thick vegetation. It was, quite literally, running for its life.

As they rounded the next turn, Owen held up his hand with his palm facing out, shouting, "Ho!"

Ren held her breath, her eyes widening in delighted surprise as all four of the animals suddenly skidded to a stop in the dirt. The pig swiftly disappeared behind a small metal door, perhaps not so unfortunate after all.

"Hey!" Owen called to them, raising the clicker in his other hand and making a few quick ticks with it. The raptors looked up at him unison. "Okay!" Owen demanded loudly, "Eyes on me!"

They did as they were told. All except for the one with the cerulean streak down her sides, dropping her hungry gaze to the spot where the pig had vanished.

"Blue?" Owen barked, clicking at her repeatedly with the device in he hand, "Blue!"

Immediately, Blue looked up at him. He thrust a warning finger at her, "Watch it!"

Her sister next to her hissed in protest, shaking her snout and snapping up at Owen, who instantly turned his attention to her, "Charlie! Don't give me that shit!" He kept going down the line, his face stern and his voice resolute, "Delta! Lock it up!"

The raptors fell quite, looking up at him with their intelligent eyes as they waited for his next command.

"Good!" He shouted, taking a small step to the side and watching as they followed him with their gaze. "And…" He began, "We're moving!"

Keeping his hand out in front of him, he moved sideways down the catwalk, shuffling so that he never turn his back on them. The siblings snapped and growled at each other, following his movement as he rounded the center platform. He took a few more quick steps before coming to a stop next to the feeding bucket that was hanging on the railing, "Ho!"

The sisters stopped, still looking up at him expectantly.

"Okay, that's good." Owen breathed, more to himself than to his animals. Ren could hear the pride in his voice, mixed with sincere amazement, "That's damn good!"

He made a few more ticking sounds with the clicker, grinning as he reached down into the feed bucket, "Very good! See, Charlie?" He tossed a chunk of meat to her, elated as she leapt into the air and snatched it in her jaws, "That's what you get. Echo, there you go! Delta!"

Ren could feel the stupid grin on her face, but she could not help it. She was absolutely enthralled by these powerful, beautiful predators. She leaned in on the railing. Watching as Echo and Delta mimicked Charlie, leaping effortlessly into the air to catch their reward.

Owen pulled a large dead rat from the bucket, holding it up for all four to see. "Blue," he began, making sure to single her out from the others, "This one is for you."

Blue looked up at him like a puppy waiting for her biscuit, even waving her long tail a little as Owen tossed her the rodent. She snatched it up, swallowing it down eagerly.

He thrust his hand out in front of him again, "Hold!"

Instantly, all four sets of yellow eyes were locked back on him.

Owen twisted his hand, raising his palm, commanded, "Eyes up!"

The raptors lifted their heads, straightening their long necks.

He paused, keeping them there for a few more seconds, before quickly dropping his hand and exclaiming, "Go!"

And then, they were off again, racing back into the brush with their tails disappearing into the ferns.

All at once, there were cheers. Ren clapped her hands, her smile stretching from ear to ear as she watch Barry rush passed her onto the catwalk. He raised his hand to give Owen a high five, who accepted it, still stunned.

Barry pulled him in for a one armed hug before shaking his hand warmly, "You finally did it, man!"

Owen nodded, still looking down at the paddock, dumbstruck as he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and began cleaning off his hands. Taking a few deep breaths, he pulled away from Barry and looked down the catwalk, his stunning blue eyes suddenly finding Ren's. They widened at first, seemingly surprised to see her there, but that quickly faded as he stuffed the rag back into his back pocket. He grinned at her, and then winked as he took a confident stride forward.

"Owen!"

The sound of Hoskins' voice caused them all to stop, the cheery mood instantly souring.

Ren instantly felt irritated as she watched the bulging man walking vigorously towards them. He smelled like sour whisky, menthol, and something akin to old socks. She wrinkled her nose, biting down on her tongue as he approached.

Hoskins slapped a few of the men on the back as he passed, the gesture in no way reciprocated. He was almost giddy as he passed her, flashing her a flirtatious smile before he hopped up onto the catwalk and pointed enthusiastically at Owen, "I was starting to think I hired the wrong guy!"

Owen's warm gaze turned cold as it dropped to Hoskins', and Ren got the sudden feeling that she was no longer wanted here. She swallowed her sudden discomfort, quickly turning and moving back to the table. But, her curiosity got the better of her, and she could not help but listen in to the icy exchange as she busied herself with the lunches.

"You're in my way." Owen stated flatly, something in his tone making Ren's insides squirm.

"Come on," Hoskins pushed, "We're the same. We're dogs of war. We know that the military needs to reduce casualties. Some people think robots are the future. Or hell, some people even think it's those damn mutants."

At the word "mutants", the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and Ren turned her head discreetly. She watched as Owen forced his way around Hoskins, clearly exasperated by the older man.

Hoskins took a few steps backwards, continuing to talk as he followed him down the catwalk, "Look, nature gave us the most effective killing machines 75 million years ago." He reached out, gently grabbing Owen's shoulder, "And, now we know they can take orders."

Ren felt her muscles and teeth clench in unison, balling her hands into fists protectively. Her instincts were screaming at her, urging violence. The instant Hoskins had put his hand on Owen, every fiber of her being had wanted to rip him apart. She forced herself to take a step back, struggling to reel herself back in as Barry rushed forward.

Owen abruptly turned to face Hoskins, placing is hands on his belt as he glowered at him.

"We finally make progress and that's the first thing he says?" Barry snapped, gesturing to the intruder in disgust, "Make a weapon?"

Hoskins huffed, turning away in irritation before continuing along the wall with the two raptor trainers. "Come on, gents. It's grown-up time." He pressed, talking with his hands, "Drones can't search tunnels and caves. And, they're hackable. The minute a real war breaks out, all that fancy tech is gonna go dark."

"Yeah," Owen countered, "But, that tech isn't gonna eat them if they forget to feed it."

Hoskins stopped, gesturing animatedly to the raptor sisters below. "Look." He defended, "Look at these creatures. They've got millions of years of instinct in their cells. Instinct that we can program. Their loyalty cannot be bought." He brought his hands up off the railing to emphasized his point, "These guys are gonna run straight into the enemy's teeth and eat them, belt buckle and all."

Barry scowled at him, "What if they decide that they want to be in control?"

"Well, then we remind them who is." Hoskins replied as though it were obvious, "We terminate the rogues. Promote only loyal bloodlines."

Barry let out a sharp, disbelieving chuckle.

"What?" Hoskins questioned, genuinely confused by his reaction, "What's so funny?"

Barry continued laughing as he walked away.

Owen let out a surprised whistle, shaking his head. He turned to Hoskins and shrugged his strong shoulders, "I don't know. You come here and you don't learn anything about these animals except what you want to know. You made them, and now you think you own them."

Hoskins placed his hand on his hip, "We do own them. Extinct animals have no rights."

"They're not extinct anymore, Hoskins."

"Exactly."

Ren watched as the two of them continue down the wall, taking her time unpacking the condiments and utensils from the box and placing them on the table. She was vibrating inside. It was taking every ounce for her self-control not to intervene. She disliked Hoskins, and there were multiple reasons why. His smell. His personality. His general outlook on the world. The fact that he worked for InGen. But, at the moment, it was because he was menacing Owen.

Owen took the feed bucket from Dr. Horne and began to descend the stairs with Hoskins still on his heels.

"We're sitting on a gold mine!" Hoskins exclaimed, pointing back at the paddock, "And, Mosrani is using it to stock a petting zoo!"

"He just wants to teach people some humility." Owen called over his shoulder, "He doesn't make weapons."

"You think that the 8th richest man in the world is only into oil, telecom, and family fun parks?" Hoskins howled, "He's so diversified that he doesn't even know what he owns."

"How long has InGen been practicing this pitch?" Owen spat back, still looking straight ahead.

"Since the day we hired you out of the Navy." Hoskins informed him, "You knew the end game. These animals can replace thousands of boots on the ground."

Ren heard the door to the exterior cage open and clank closed. She moved closer to the outer railing, openly peering down at Hoskins as he grabbed onto the bars.

"How many lives would that save?" He continued.

Owen had moved out of sight, but she heard a buzzer sound as he hit the door locks, making sure that Hoskins could no longer follow him.

"War is part of nature." Hoskins began to lecture, "Look around, Owen. Every living thing in this jungle is trying to murder the other. Mother Nature's way of testing her creations. Refining the pecking order. War is a struggle. Struggle breeds greatness. Without that... We end up with places like this. Charge seven bucks a soda."

Owen scoffed at him, "Do you hear yourself when you talk?"

"This is gonna happen." Hoskins told him pointedly, grinning at him as he shook his head, "With, or without you boys. Progress always wins, man."

"Maybe progress should lose for once."

Ren grimaced, a primal growl radiating deep in her throat ans she shook her head, turning away from the railing and instantly finding herself face to face with Barry. "That guy," She spat venomously, "Is such a dick."

Barry nodded in agreement, his lips pursed as he turned towards the stairs with his lunch in hand.

There was a sudden, jarring metallic thud.

Ren jumped, whipping her head around to search for the source as the air suddenly became filled with a shrill squealing again. Without warning, Leon came sprinting down the wall with a pole and tether in his hands. "Pig is loose!" The new guy cried, rushing out onto the catwalk, "Pig is loose!"

"Hey!" Ren shouted at him, taking a few quick strides forward, "Leon! Man, don't—"

Before she could finish her warning, the man had lowered the pole over the side of the railing. Without thinking, she bounded onto the catwalk with her hand outstretched. "Don't!" She bellowed, her fingers digging into his shirt just as the pole gave a violent jerk.

Her feet left the grate.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading. :)**

 **Reviews are much loved and appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 1

**This story is a crossover between** ** _Jurassic World_** **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** ** _X-Men: Days of Future Past_** **.**

 **All** ** _X-Men_** **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** ** _Jurassic World_** **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is Rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 ***Re-edited 4/26/2018  
**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **6 weeks earlier...**

The alarm was blaring. A shrill, repetitive ring that was quickly grating on Renegade's last nerve.

She groaned, pulling the comforter up over her head defiantly as she curled around her pillow. The incessant buzzing droned on, muffled by the thick, cotton blanket. Growling, she squeezed her eyes shut, thrusting her hand out from under the covers. She felt around her bedside table blindly, knocking over a framed photograph before her fingers slid through the holographic orb floating above her alarm clock. She groped at the irritating ball of plastic, desperate to find the snooze button, but the noise just continued to drone on.

Burying her head deeper under the cushions, she hissed with her canines bared, still grabbing at the clock clumsily. She let out a huff of hot air, and without even thinking, curled her fingers into a fist. The sharp pain in her knuckles barely even registered as the metallic claws swiftly ruptured her skin. Fully extending the long, twin blades, she thrust them down, stabbing them into the digital face of the clock with a violent spray of sparks. The alarm instantly faded, the ringing slowly winding down into silence as the annoying device gave its final death rattle.

Ren retracted her claws with a sharp _snikt_ , pulling her hand back under the sheets with a contented sigh.

She ran her fingers through her tangled mess of black hair, yanking it away from her amber eyes groggily. The sun was shining through the fabric of her blanket and she groaned again, half of her brain wondering what time it was, while the other demand she go back to sleep. She had been awake most of the night, staring at the dull glow of late night reruns on the television until she had finally given into exhaustion.

She was not sure how long she laid there, but at some point she had begun to drift back to sleep, only to be abruptly pulled out of her twilight by a hard rap on the door. She made a very conscious decision to ignore it.

Another knock. This time louder. More forceful.

"Go away!" Ren shouted from her cocoon, bristling with annoyance.

She heard her door swing open. Almost immediately, the familiar smell of cigar smoke, beer, and Old Spice aftershave wafted under her nose.

"Rise and shine, Darlin'." Logan greeted her in his gravelly voice, tinted with irony as his boots clanked across the hardwood floor.

Ren replied by pulling the blankets in tighter. She felt Logan sigh more than she heard it. She could feel his presence looming over her, sensing his hands on his belt, and the look of irritation on his weathered face.

"Kid," He growled, "Come on. The Professor is waiting on ya."

A pang of dread shot through her. She had forgotten all about her appointment with the Professor. She exhaled heavily into her pillowcase, not budging.

"So, we're doing this the hard way, huh?" He said flatly, taking his time as he circled the bed. Leaning down, he seized the comforter firmly in both hands, "Fine."

With a single, hard tug, Logan tore all the covers from the mattress. Immediately, Ren pulled her bare legs to her chest and shivered, completely exposed to the cool, November morning air. Having gone to bed in only a camisole and a pair of underwear, she moaned in discomfort as she slowly rolled over onto her back, scowling up at the Wolverine, "Fuck off."

"Nice." Logan raised his eyebrows in simulated surprise, "Is that anyway to talk to your father?"

Her frowned deepened, "I wouldn't know."

"Oh. Ouch!" He grabbed onto his heart, feigning pain as he hunched forward, before straightening back up and lightly nudging her shoulder with his fingers, "Now, come on. Get up. Get dressed. It's after—" His gaze landed on her destroyed alarm clock. He picked up what was left of it, presenting it to her with an astonished glower, "Really?"

Rolling onto her stomach, she pulled the pillow over her head and locked it in place with her forearms. She grumbled incoherently into the sheet.

"Ren?" He called to her again, setting the broken clock back on the table. There was no response. "Renegade!" He barked, the sound mixed with a guttural snarl, "Jesus! Come on!"

She tighten her grip on the pillow.

"Alright." He muttered, "Don't say I didn't try to be nice about this."

Logan fisted his fingers into her pillow aggressively, ripping it off her head.

At once, Ren was wide awake. The slight pressure of his hand in that instant was enough to send her into a panic. Her mind went blank as instinct took hold. In a single fluid movement, she shoved herself off the bed, bringing her arms in and twisting in midair. She brought her leg up and thrust it towards his head with lethal accuracy. Landed on her right side, an audible _snikt_ pierced the morning quiet as she extended the single, Adamantium coated claw from her foot.

Instantly, Logan had his own claws out, rapidly bringing them up to shield his face. The three blades deflected hers without the slightest amount of effort. He turned his head, examining her foot calmly. Her toes were still pointed at his temple, along with the lengthy blade protruding from just above them. He pursed his lips, nodding slowly as he turned his attention back to her with quirked eyebrow, "Bit of an overreaction. Don't 'cha think?"

Ren stared at him, her heart still drumming in her ears. She swallowed thickly, letting out a shaky breath as she quickly retracted her claw. The red hole in her bronzed skin disappeared almost immediately. Slowly, she lowered her leg and sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees, "Sorry."

He sheathed his claws back into his forearm, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. Fixing his dark eyes on her, his mouth twisted into a concerned frown. "Look," He began gruffly, "I get it. I've been there, and it sucks." He sighed heavily through his nostrils, "It sucks, and it's painful. And, it's not fair. And, I know it's the last thing you want to do. But, you it said yourself. It's helping."

"Yeah…" She replied halfheartedly, staring at the floor.

"Hey." He said as he nudged her shoulder gently with his own, "Go get dressed. I'll walk you down."

"No." Ren told him, standing hastily, "No. I'm good now. Besides, don't you have class to teach?"

"Right." He shrugged, shaking his head in bemusement as he lifted off the mattress, "You'd think I'd be used to this teaching thing by now."

She followed his movement with her eyes, having to lean her head back to look up at his face, "Time travel. Illegal experiments. Government conspiracies. Just another day of living the dream."

Logan snorted, rolling his eyes, but unable to hide the small smirk that touched his lips as he turned towards the door. "I'll see ya, Kid."

"Count on it." She replied quietly, watching him leave with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

* * *

Stepping out into the hallways at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was like stepping out into a mad house.

In the two years that Ren had been there, enrollment had nearly tripled. The mutant population was booming, and along with it, there was a growing need for a place where parents send their mutant children to be safe. Political pressures had been mounting. Race and religion were no longer the hot button issues of the day. Not when there was a new species dawning on the evolutionary horizon. _Homo sapiens_ feared their new siblings, _Homo superiors_. The entire country was on a virtual knife's edge. And, violence against mutants was becoming a near nightly occurrence on the evening news.

She pushed her way through the steady stream of students, walking against the current. With every step she took, she felt increasingly claustrophobic. She kept her head down, with her wild black mane cascading down to the center of her back. She pulled her shoulders in tight, stuffing her hands deep in the pockets of her frayed blue jeans and weaving her way through the gaps. A few of the older students moved out of her way when they spotted her, openly avoiding eye contact as the passed. She had built a reputation for not being the friendliest of the mansion's staff, known for being perpetually ill tempered.

She was the Wolverine's daughter, after all.

She turned the corner, keeping close to the wall, when she abruptly collided with Kitty Pryde. Or rather, Kitty collided with her. Stifling a yelp, Ren grabbed at her abdomen as her fellow X-Man phased straight through her, and then kept on going.

"Oh gosh, Ren!" Kitty called over her shoulder, racing down the passage with her ponytail whipping out behind her, "Sorry!"

Not looking back, Ren raised her hand in a half-wave to signal that all was forgiven. Continuing on her way with her heart still racing, she had to pause and force herself to take a series of deep breaths. Her shoulder muscles ached they were so tense. A dull throb spread from her upper back and up to the base of her skull. She rolled her neck, trying in vain to loosen them as she began her decent down the central staircase.

Over the last few months, she had become progressively more agoraphobic. The more the Professor helped her remember, the more she began to isolate herself. A fact that had not gone unnoticed by the others.

She preferred to stay in her room, only coming out when Logan forced her to be social. Strangely, she was fine outside of the school. In a world full of hate for mutants, where violence and prejudice was expected, she could walk down the street without an ounce of anxiety. She knew how to carry herself out there. She could handle that. But, here? In a house full of misfits, where she was the biggest misfit of all?

It was suffocating.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and took a right, heading for the elevator to the lower levels, when she heard someone calling her name.

"Ren?" The shapely form of Jean Grey was gliding towards her from the other end of the hall. Her long, red hair flowed in waves over her white blouse, and her pencil skirt clung to her hips as her scarlet pumps clicked across the wooden floor, "The Professor is waiting for you in his study."

Ren frowned, turning, "Why?"

Jean strode passed her, climbing the first few steps, "You'll have to ask him."

Ren continued to scowl as she watched her leave, meeting Cyclops at the top of the stairway and disappearing down the corridor.

She did not care much for Jean Grey. It was no secret; trying to hide your true feelings from a telepath was the very definition of futility. Though, to her favor, Jean had never mentioned it, nor had she ever treated Ren badly because of it. But, there was something about the woman that just irked her.

She sighed and changed direction, heading down the opposite side of the passageway. Passing several open classrooms, she came to a stop on the end of the hall and raised her hand to knock on the study door, when it was suddenly jerked open by the beastly form of Hank McCoy.

"Ah," He greeted her with a warm smile, his fangs glinting at her through his blue lips, "Good morning, Renegade."

"Good morning, Dr. McCoy." She replied dolefully.

Oblivious to her sullen mood, he brushed quickly passed her, straightening his suit jacket with his furry hands. "Well, I won't keep you." He nodded to her cordially, before calling back into the room, "I'll update you as soon as I know something, Charles."

"Thank you, Hank." She heard the Professor answer.

Without waiting for an invitation, Ren stepped inside, shutting the door softly with her back to the room. It smelled of dust, old parchment, and coffee. A pleasant scent, warm and hospitable, but it did little to ease her nerves.

"Good morning, Rachel." Professor Xavier welcomed her genially.

"That's not my name." Ren snapped irritably, whirling around to face him. She instantly regretted her tone, grimacing as she swallowed her fury. "I'm sorry." She apologized, "I didn't mean for that to sound so harsh."

"It's quite all right." The Professor told her gently, looking at her from behind his desk with patient eyes. He rolled his electric wheelchair forward, maneuvering passed the bookshelves and gesturing to the plush sofa on the other side of the room, "Please, have a seat."

She did as she was asked, taking the place opposite him and collapsing heavily onto the cushions. Her cropped school t-shirt left a good three inches of her muscular abdomen bare as she sat, folding her sculpted arms tightly around her flat core and hugging herself.

"I know it's not uncommon for mutants to adopt a new identity after they mutate," He began in a smooth, soothing voice, bringing his mobilized chair to a stop, "Lord knows, you're hardly the first one around here to do so. But, I must confess, I've always been a little curious about the name you chose."

She brushed a black curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, "Which part?"

"Well," The Professor continued thoughtfully, "The dictionary defines a renegade as a traitor. As someone who leaves one cause for allegiance to another. Usually, the opposing one."

She considered him, her expression somber. "I am a traitor." She stated bluntly, "I turned on Stryker and the rest of his team the instant you freed me from his control."

"Yes," He conceded, "But, one could argue that you were never truly loyal to Stryker. You weren't in your right mind."

Ren nodded solemnly, "I guess that's true. But, honestly, I prefer the other definition. Someone who rejects conventional behavior, and who cannot be controlled." She leaned forward, a defiant fire suddenly sparking to life in her amber tinted eyes, "I will never be controlled by anyone. Not ever again."

He smiled at her, "When you put it like that, I suppose it does have a poetic ring to it." He shifted slightly, "But, help me understand. Why do you reject your given name so profusely?"

She did not answer him immediately. "Because…" She hesitated, "Rachel Garner doesn't exist anymore."

Professor Xavier frowned, his brow creased with sorrow, "Do you really believe that?"

"Yes."

"Why?" He asked her kindheartedly, "Because of what Wyngarde did to you?"

She looked down at her boots, purposely avoiding his gaze.

"Ren," He addressed her seriously, "There is not a telepath on this planet powerful enough to completely erase someone's person. To destroy someone's entire mental being… I don't believe it's even possible. Not even for me."

Ren looked up at him, scowling. "Mastermind didn't destroy Rachel." She growled, "He took her brain and just… _played_. He dissected her. Stripped her down to her bare elements." She swallowed thickly, feeling water burning in the corners of her eyes, "He _unmade_ her."

"Do you believe that you and Rachel are separate people?" He questioned, concerned.

Again, she did not answer right away. "I'm… not sure." She finally began, "I can remember now what it was like to be her. I remember growing up in foster care. I remember mutating when I was twelve, and being scared that someone would find out. I remember feelings of doubt and loneliness, and wanting to know where I came from." She blinked several times, fighting the tears welling in her eyes, "I can remember all those parts of her life. But, when I think about it, it's like I'm watching it from the outside. Like it happened to someone else."

The Professor leaned in, placing the tips of his fingers together as he encouraged her gently, "Go on."

"Rachel..." Ren breathed, her tone turning bitter, "Would have never even thought about killing someone. It wasn't in her nature, I don't think. She didn't know Krav Maga. She didn't know how to shoot a gun, or how to build a bomb. Or how to speak Arabic, Korean, Russian, or any of the other six languages that I speak. But, I do. All because some _mad scientist_ working for the Military Industrial Complex had a telepath cram it in my head."

She took a deep breath, her voice shaking as she became more enraged with every syllable, "I do. And, I have. So, maybe we aren't different people, but I'm sure as hell not her anymore. I'm not Rachel."

There was a long pause as she struggled to fully process everything that she had just confessed.

"No," She stated resolutely, looking up at the Professor and locking her eyes on his, "My name is Renegade."

"Alright." Professor Xavier nodded slowly, his mouth stretched thin, "I think I understand." He leaned back in his chair, "You feel like you can no longer connect with that identity. But, I feel compelled to tell you, whether you believe me or not, that you are, indeed, still Rachel Garner. You are still the same person you were before Weapon X took you. You've gone through an incredible metamorphosis, it's true. But, you are still her. Name, or no name."

"Maybe…" She sighed, tapping her temple with her index finger and frowning, "Everything is such a mess in here. It's like I've got scrambled eggs for brains."

"You've made a lot of progress in the last two years." He told her, "But, there is still a lot of work to do. It took me a long time to fully help Logan put all the pieces back together. Mastermind may not have succeeded in completely destroying your will, but he still did a lot of damage. And, I'm sorry to say, it may be even more severe than your father's. That forcible psychic download left some very deep scars in your subconscious. "

Ren nodded, biting down on the corner of her lip, "I don't think I ever really thanked you. You know? For breaking Mastermind's hold over me."

He grinned at her, almost bashfully, "You know you don't have to thank me for that. I would have done it regardless." His grin widened, "After all, you were trying to kill me."

She snorted, "Yeah, well, _thank you_." She sighed again, letting her shoulders relax as she leaned back onto the sofa and looked around the room, "So, why are we meeting in here, and not downstairs?"

"I thought," He answered her, relaxing back himself, "that, instead of a session today, you and I could have a chat."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?" She asked.

"Yes." He chuckled lightly, "But, this isn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

Ren nodded, smirking cynically as she quickly put the pieces together. She scoffed at him knowingly, "So, you don't think I should go?"

"Renegade," Professor Xavier addressed her by her chosen name, "You're a strong, intelligent, 26 year old woman. Everything that I've learned about you over the last few years, tells me that you are perfectly capable of making your own decisions. And, I'm not going to try and stop you. But, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't make sure that you made this decision for the right reasons."

"Fair enough," She relented, still slightly irritated.

His smile faltered somewhat, his worry peeking through his optimistic mask. "Why?" He asked.

Ren took the time to choose her words carefully. She shifted on the cushion, briefly glancing out the window before fixing her gaze back on the Professor. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "I'm not happy." She told him, her voice meek for the first time.

She watched his face for a reaction, but he continued to gaze at her in the same patient and caring way that he always did. She took a deep breath, the words catching in her throat as she went on, "For the longest time, I didn't even think I was capable of it. I couldn't remember what it was even like. Happiness seemed like such a foreign concept. But now... Things are different. I feel like I could be happy. Only, I'm not. And, I don't think I can be while I'm here."

The lines on the Professor's face deepened as he frowned, sadness darkening his eyes, "And, why do you feel that way?"

"Everybody here…" She paused, trying to think of the best way to explain it to him, "They _know._ They all know what happened to me. I can see it in the way they look at me. The way they whisper when my back is turned. They're all either afraid of me, or they pity me." She let out a frustrated huff of air, "I can't go anywhere in this place without being reminded that I'm different. That I'm broken. I want to go somewhere where nobody knows. Where they don't know me, or what I am, or all the bad things that happened to me. I want…" Her voice cracked, "I want to be normal."

"Ren…" Professor Xavier breathed, the look on his face truly pained, "You are normal."

"Doesn't change how I feel." She told him, looking down at her toes shamefully, "I need to do this. I just… I need some room to figure some things out."

"Have you told Logan yet?" He queried, his voice quieter than it had been before.

"No." She answered, her shame growing, "Not yet. I was going to tell him tonight."

His look turned disapproving, "You leave in the morning?"

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting uncomfortably, "I figured I should make it a clean break."

"He's you father, Ren." Xavier heaved, closing his eyes in a mix of exasperation and heartache.

"Who didn't even know I existed until two years ago." She shot back at him, scowling, "Look, you and I both know he's tired a waiting around here. He wants to leave, but he won't because he feels obligated. This way, we both get what we want."

"I can't speak for Logan," The Professor pushed, "But, I'm fairly positive that your leaving is the last thing he wants."

"It's better this way." Ren tried to convince the both of them, guilt weighing on her chest.

"Alright," He relented, his mouth stretched into a thin line, "One last question, then. Why Jurassic World?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. I can think of worse places to work than a tropical island."

"I'm being serious." His tone darkened.

"So am I."

He sighed, shaking his head as he reversed his wheelchair, positioning it back behind his desk. He indicated the book lying in front of him on the tabletop with a serious glower, "I've been familiarizing myself with Dr. Henry Wu's work. He's the lead geneticist for InGen. In charge of creating the attractions for the park."

"I know who he is." Ren told him, promptly moving to stand across from him. She folded her arms anxiously across her chest, glancing down at the text entitled _The Next Step: An Evolution of God's Concepts_ , "I've done my homework, Professor."

"I'm sure you have." He smiled weakly at her, "My point is, Ren... I am worried about you."

"Worried?" She questioned, her brow furrowing, "Why?"

"How much do you really know about this place? About, what it actually is?" The Professor asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the desktop. "These so called _dinosaurs_ , for instance. They're not the reversal of a mass extinction like the public has been lead to believe. They're genetic aberrations. Creatures created by the constant manipulation and mutation of the dinosaurs' genome, caused by the addition of foreign DNA."

"I'm not sure I follow." Ren frowned.

"They're not dinosaurs." He told her pointedly, "They're manmade, genetic chimera."

Realization slowly dawn across her face as she dug her fingernails into her shoulders. "Mutants?" She uttered softly, "You're saying they're manmade mutants."

"Please, Ren." The Professor implored her, a sympathetic look in his wise eyes, "I won't stop you. But, please be cautious." He laid his hand over the hardback in front of him, breathing in deeply, "There is more than one mad scientist in this world."

* * *

"When do you leave?" Logan's voice was more gruff than usual. He was bent over his motorcycle, with his hands covered with grease as he tinkered with the engine. The leather seat was resting on the garage floor, next to an open tool chest and a half-empty bottle of Budweiser. He refused to look at her, focusing completely on the wrench in his white knuckled grip.

"My flight leaves at 8 o'clock, tomorrow morning." Ren replied frankly. She could smell the anger on him and it was making her stomach turn.

"Christ!" He exclaimed loudly, suddenly hurling the wrench back into its red box furiously. He stood abruptly, turning away from her with his hands on his belt as he took several ragged breaths, huffing as he growled at her, "You're just telling me now?"

"It's a good job." She defended, thumbs stuck in the back pockets of her jeans, "The company will provide everything I need. Housing. Utilities. And, the pay is great."

"That's not the point!" He snapped, rounding on her, "The point is that you did this without talking to me about it!"

She flinched inwardly, but stood her ground. "I don't need your permission." She snarled at him, "I'm an adult."

He scowled at her, pacing and throwing up his hands in frustration, "I'm your father, damn it!"

"Genetics!" Ren spat back at him.

"What?" He stopped mid-stride, turning back to her, stunned.

She took a deep breath, shaking her head, and looking at anything but him. "You really think you'd still be around if I weren't your blood?" She dropped her hands to her sides stiffly, "I think you feel guilty. And, that's the only reason you're still here."

He stared at her in utter shock, his strong jaw slack, "Where the hell is this coming from?"

"I …" She breathed out, whispering, "It's just something I've been thinking lately."

"And, you thought the answer was to run away to Costa Rica?" He gaped at her, "Kid, I'll be the first to admit I'm not the most cuddly guy. But, I want to be here. I didn't know about you when you were growing up, and I'm sorry for that. But, I'm here now. I want to be here." He took a step towards her, " _You're my kid._ "

She felt dangerously close to crying. "It's not just you." She struggled to swallow the massive lump stuck behind her tongue, "It's everything. This whole place. I… I feel like I can't breathe."

"Hey, come on…" He coaxed her gently, reaching out for her. He pulled her towards him, wrapping his steely arms around her snuggly and resting his chin on the top of her head, "Talk to me."

She pressed her face into his muscular chest, breathing in his strong scent and instantly relaxing into his embrace. "I need to go." She muttered into his shirt.

"Hmm…" He pondered, the sound vibrating under his rib cage. He brushed his lips to the crown of her head, asking into her hair, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes." She mumbled, pulling back to look up at him, "I don't know what else to try."

He let out a frustrated sigh, a deep rumbling that started in his abdomen and rushed out his throat, "Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yeah," Logan conceded, raising his brow as he looked down at her with a crooked glower, "I'm not happy about it, but… Alright."

Ren let out the breath she had been holding, "Thank you."

"But," He added quickly, giving her a stern look, his nostrils flaring, "I get to drive you to the airport."

"Okay." She agreed, warmth spreading through her as she looked up at him.

"And, who knows…" He shrugged, the corner of his mouth suddenly upturned, "Maybe I'll even come visit?"

She was unable to hide the small smile that crossed her lips, "I have a hard time picturing you in the tropics."

"Well," He grinned at her almost tenderly, "I guess I'll have to work on my tan."


	4. Chapter 2

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 ***Re-edited 4/27/2018  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Renegade stepped out of the taxi and into the Costa Rican heat, pulling her sunglasses from atop her head as she squinted in the Central American sun, and replacing them over her eyes.

She breathed in deeply, the air moist and thick in her nostrils, and she was instantly overtaken by the overwhelming smell of salt water and diesel. She bent and grabbed onto her bag, yanking it out from the cab's backseat and slinging the heavy duffle over her shoulder in a single movement.

" _Gracias, amigo._ " She addressed the driver with a brisk nod, handing him the fare through the open passenger window.

" _De nada._ " He replied, taking the money with a toothy grin. Laughing, he added in a thick Hispanic accent, "Hey, anything chases you on that island? You run, eh?"

She grinned cynically to herself, patting the roof of the taxi with her palm as the cabbie honked his horn twice and pulled away in a cloud of dust.

Getting through airport security had been a pain; Logan had warned her that it would be. He had instructed her to opt for the pat-down instead of going through the metal detectors. So, she had been forced to suffer the timely indignity of having strange women grope at her chest and thighs as they searched her for anything that might be a danger to the flight. Little had they known that the true danger was inside her. Part of her. But, regardless, she had managed to make it through both of her layovers ontime, landing at Juan Santamaría International Airport with a couple hours to spare before her ferry was set to depart.

Ren headed towards the docks with a purposeful stride, pausing at a sudden, overbearing, and muddled smell. Watching as Jurassic World patrons file out of the line of massive shuttles to her left, she was momentarily mesmerized by the number of them. Hundreds of people form every race, religion, and walk of life, pressed together as they descended the stairs to Dock A, where the gleaming Isla Nublar Ferry awaited them. She knew that Jurassic World was one of the top vacation destinations in the world. She had even read in a travel magazine that it had surpassed Disney World as the most popular family getaway. Still, she had not expected to see so many people here. She could not even imagine what she would see when she arrived at the park itself.

Ren continued passed Dock A and all its crowded opulence. Pulling her boarding pass and traveling instructions from the pocket of her cut-off, denim shorts, she smoothed the creases with the palm of her hand and reread the directions for what must have been the fifth time since she had landed. She was supposed to take the ferry from Dock C, which would take her to the island's port. There, she would be met by one of the resort's Human Resource liaisons and taken straight to orientation, where she would be assigned her work schedule and living arrangements.

She located her boat about a quarter mile down the coast. The large cargo ferry was tethered to the yellow pillars along the dock with ropes thicker than her arms. Its rear gate was down, creating a small bridge between the ship and the concrete pier behind it. There was a long line of vehicles marked with the Jurassic World brand stretching out behind the boat, waiting for their turn to board, while all hands on the car-deck busied themselves with various labors and tasks.

"Um…Excuse me?" A meek voice called from a distance behind her, coupled with a series of frantic footfalls and plastic wheels scraping on the blacktop.

Ren sniffed and scowled as she continued towards the steps, the overly sweet scents of lavender shampoo and vanilla moisturizer reaching her nose.

"Excuse me?" The voice came again, louder, closer, and slightly breathy.

Growling quietly in irritation, Ren turned with her mouth set in an unforgiving line, her brow quirked in query.

"Oh… Hi!" The woman squeaked, her white sneakers skidding to a stop with her luggage case clamoring behind her. Her blue eyes widened, taken aback by Ren's sudden about-face and severe expression. "Yes, um… Excuse me?" She repeated, tucking a fair strand of hair behind her ear, "Is…ah...? Is this the staff ferry to Isla Nublar?"

Ren considered the other woman evenly. She was young, thin and willowy, with hardly an ounce of muscle on her slender frame. Her facial features were stuck in a constant expression of surprised, with her pale eyes round, and a slight overbite that brought to mind the image of a frightened rabbit.

Suppressing her primal instincts in favor of a more human response, she presented her boarding pass to the stranger with a forced smile, "God, I hope so."

The woman smiled, relieved, "Oh, good! I was worried I'd missed it." She stuck out her hand sociably, he smile widening, "I'm Daisy, by the way. Daisy Henderson."

Ren looked at her open palm warily before taking it and giving it a single, curt shake, "Ren Howlett."

"So," Daisy asked her as they continued down the staircase together, "Are you new here too? I mean, are you new to Jurassic World? Or have you worked there before? Because, I haven't. But, I'm so excited! And, nervous. Like, really nervous. But, mostly excited, I think."

Ren paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her with a slightly amused, telling expression.

"Oh," Daisy stopped on the last step, looking embarrassed, "I'm talking too much, aren't I? I'm sorry. Like I said, I'm nervous."

Ren grinned at the redness in her checks. She could not help it. The girl's expression was so innocent and childlike. Instantly, she felt herself begin to relax, the knots in her shoulders loosening. "It's cool." Ren asssured her, "And, yeah, I'm new. Actually, I've never even been."

"Really?" Daisy asked, surprised, "I went with my family a few years ago, and I absolutely loved it. So, I jumped at it when I got the chance to work there. But, if you've never been… I mean, then why come all the way out here?"

"A tropical island in the middle of the Pacific? 3,000 miles from home?" Ren shrugged, "Just seemed like a good place to figure some things out. Maybe make a little money."

"I know what you mean." Daisy agreed with an exasperated nod, "I graduated from Virginia Tech a few months ago. I'm drowning in student loans and I have no idea what I'm going to do with the rest of my life."

"Well," Ren said thoughtfully as they approached the ferry's gate, "Right now, I suggest you get on the boat. Take it from there."

Daisy's lips pulled back to reveal her large, white teeth, "Sounds like a plan."

Ren's Converse sounded heavily across the ferry's ramp as they boarded. Her steps were far louder than Daisy's, partly due to her cumbersome gait, but she knew it was mostly because of the extra weight from the Adamantium infused to her bones. She wondered if anyone else had noticed the difference as she held out her pass to one of the ferrymen, who hardly even looked at her before he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, directing them to the stateroom directly under the wheelhouse.

Shrugging to Daisy, she crossed the damp floorboards, dodging workers and cargo alike. She paused when she reached the stateroom's open door, knocking on the metal frame before sticking her head inside. A dozen other people were seated around the stuffy space. A few of them sat with their legs crossed on the bunks built into the far wall, next to the narrow stairwell and a large pile of luggage. Others were leaning against the dull colored walls, glancing out of the portholes at the bright, tropical seascape outside. But, most were seated at the large round table in the center of the room, their chins resting on their fists as they waited for the ferry to depart.

"Well, hello!" An overly cheery woman in a blue Jurassic World polo-shirt sprinted towards them with an eager smile on her face a she waved them in, "Welcome! Welcome!"

Ren stepped inside, instantly repelled by the woman's cloying greeting. She swallowed her discomfort, hearing Logan's warning growl in her head. "Hi..." She said back, her lips forced into an uneasy smile.

"Hello." She heard Daisy chirp shyly from behind her, waving timidly to the room as she stepped over the threshold.

The perky woman's smile widened even more, pointing at Ren before thrusting out her thin hand, "You must be Ren Howlett?"

Ren scowled, instantly suspicious as she accepted the handshake, "Yeah…"

"I thought I recognized you from your employee file." She shook her hand warmly, "And, it is 'Ren' right? Just 'R-E-N'? Not 'Wren' with a 'W'?"

"Yeah," Ren withdrew her hand quickly, "That's me."

"Awesome!" She said, turning to Daisy animatedly and taking her hand, "And, you're Daisy Henderson. It's so good to meet you both! I'm Monica Simons. Your official Jurassic World welcome wagon!"

"I, ah…" Ren began hesitantly, glancing around at the faces in the room, "I didn't think that we were supposed to start orientation until we got on the island?"

"Oh, no. Sweetie," Monica informed her lightly, "This isn't your orientation. I'm just here to welcome you all into the Jurassic World family. Answer any questions you might have about the park. Give you an overview of our safety procedures. That sort of thing. After all, at Jurassic World, safety is our main concern. "

"Oh, well…" Ren breathed, moving deeper into the room and adding her duffle to the pile of bags, "That's good to hear. It'd be a real downer to get eaten."

A soft laugh echoed around the room as Ren took a seat at the table. She watched as Daisy mimicked her, propping up her wheeled suitcase in the corner, and then claiming the spot next to her with an anxious grin.

Monica began a head count, her index finger pointing to each person as her lips moved mutely. Ren scowled, slightly irritated by the gesture. The image of a school teacher, standing at the front of a school bus and counting her pupils, popped into her head. Jean often did that whenever she would take students out of the mansion.

"Okey-dokey! That's everybody!" Monica exclaimed, pumping her arm forward with enthusiasm, "I'll just go tell the captain that we're ready to shove off!"

Leaning back in the spindly chair with her arms folded under her breasts, Ren watched Monica practically skip from the cabin. She shook her head disbelievingly, "Wow."

"I know, right?" The young man seated next to her muttered quietly, leaning forward and raising his well-groomed eyebrows in astonishment, "How can anyone be _that_ happy? I mean, seriously, I'll take two of whatever the hell she's on."

Ren snorted, bringing her hand up to cover her grin as she studied him. He was about a foot taller than she was, six or so feet of lean muscle, with a tall, very wiry figure. He was all arms and legs, with freckled skin, and short strawberry-blonde hair that he had spiked in the front. He smelled strongly of hair gel, mouthwash and nicotine gum. There were still marks on his teeth from where his braces had been recently removed. And, a multicolored Pride pin shown brightly on the collar of his shirt.

"I'm Ren." She introduced herself, intrigued, "That's Daisy."

Daisy waved at him with a bashful smile.

"Oliver." He relayed with a crocked grin, "So, what brings you lovely ladies all the way out here?"

"Self discovery and financial independence." Ren glanced over at Daisy with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "What about you?"

"Bad breakup." He laughed, "Don't ask."

"Oh, well..." Ren sighed, shrugging nonchalantly, "Now I have to."

"Okay then!" Monica announced her return loudly, her smile almost blinding as she marched back into the cabin, "We will be departing shortly! Does anyone have any questions before we get started with our safety briefing?"

"Um, yeah." Oliver thrust his hand into the air with mocked interest, an evil grin cutting across his cleanly shaved face, "Are we gonna talk about the other park? You know… the _first_ one?"

The room went quiet, with all chatter immediately ceasing.

For the first time, Monica's smile faltered and she looked genuinely uncomfortable. "That's ah…" She stumbled, "That's a bit off topic…"

"Not really." Oliver corrected her, his impish grin broadening as he watched her struggle.

Monica pursed her lips, "What happened at Jurassic Park, 22 years ago, was a tragedy. But, let me assure all of you, that there has not been a single incident at Jurassic World since we opened our doors in 2005. The park is perfectly safe. In fact," She stated proudly, her smile returning, "Jurassic World is the safest theme park on the planet. Just like our founder, John Hammond used to say, 'We have spared no expense to make Isla Nublar safe for human and dinosaur alike.' Now, if you'll all take one of these…" She bent and pulled a heavy box out from under the table, setting it down heavily in front them. She plucked out a thick binder filled with documents and slid it forcefully across the table to Oliver, "Then we can begin."

Ren pulled her binder towards her. Opening it, she pretended to peruse the first page as she whispered out of the corner of her upturned mouth, "Troublemaker."

Oliver suppressed a chuckle, flipping through his own binder, "You have no idea."

"Alright," Monica's voice resonated through the cabin, "Does everyone have a binder? Yes? Good." She held up her own copy, "This is your employee handbook. It contains everything that you will need to know about working at Jurassic World. It includes everything from an overview of the benefits offered to all employees, to the park's code system and safety procedures, which I'm about to go over with you. Do not lose it. Trust me when I say that this will come in handy. Okay? Good. Please turn to page 87."

Ren rested her temple against her palm as she listened to Monica drone on. There were about a 150 different emergency and safety protocols for each dinosaur on the island, and currently, there were 18 different species of dinosaurs in the park. Overall, that meant there were over 2700 protocols to memorize. Thankfully, there seemed to be a lot of overlap between them. Most of it, she found, was just plain common sense. Obviously, crossing barriers was dangerous, and you should not touch an electric fence.

At some point during the lecture, the ferry had left the dock and headed out to sea. She could feel the difference in the movement of the boat, as could Daisy. The poor girl had to leave the briefing twice as they bounced along the waves. Her skin had taken on a green tint, and her eyes had lost some of their shine. When she had stood up the third time, Ren stood with her, all uncertainties she had about the girl had officially been replaced by sympathy. She helped her out onto the deck, doing her best to hold the hair out of her face as Daisy vomited over the side.

"Thanks." Daisy said quietly, embarrassed as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Don't mention it." Ren told her, shrugging as she leaned against the railing, "Is this your first time on a boat?"

"I went on a ferry on Lake Michigan when I was nine." Daisy said, her tone absolutely miserable, "But, I don't remember it being this bad."

Ren gave her a pitying smile, "At least it doesn't look like it'll last much longer. Look." She indicated the green dot on the horizon and squeezed Daisy's arm reassuringly, "We're almost there."

* * *

Isla Nublar was everything Ren had expected it to be. A tropical paradise with palm trees, abundant sunshine, and white sand beaches with crystal blue water.

She could hardly deny that her heart had begun to race with excitement as she carried both her duffle and Daisy's suitcase down the ramp and out onto the dock. Daisy was still a little shaky on her feet as she followed her off the ferry, her hand tight on the railing as she descended. Ren paused, turning as she reached the bottom, concerned, "You good?"

Daisy nodded with a weak smile, her feet finally back on solid land, "Yeah, I'm okay." She held out her hand for her suitcase, "I can take that now."

"No," Ren insisted, "I've got it. Just take it easy until were can get some fluids into you."

Daisy giggled, still pale, "You sound like my mother."

"Yes," Oliver agreed, stepping down behind her with a compassionate grin, "Mother Ren." He moved around Daisy with a comforting pat on her shoulder, and then forcible took her luggage from Ren's hand, "I got this. You just make sure she stays upright."

Ren nodded to show she understood, slowing down to move in step with the wobbly, dehydrated girl as the continued down the dock.

"Okay! New employees!" Monica shouted to them, waving her hands above her head and gesturing for them to gather around her. She was joined by four other staff members, all in different uniforms, as she continued to call for them, "Over here! That's it! Around me!"

Ren had hoped that Monica would have stopped talking when they had reached the island. She could only take so much cheery optimism at a time, and Monica was starting to push the line. But, she once again did as she was asked, falling in line with the other recruits as they crowded around her and the new arrivals.

"Good! Okay," Monica beamed at them as she clasped her hands together, "These are your HR Reps. They represent the specific areas of the park that you all have been assigned to work in. So, when they call you name, step forward."

Ren's eyes began to wonder as one of the Reps began to read off the names listed on his clipboard. Across the harbor, she could see the luxurious Isla Nublar ferry were it was docked next to a series of large, colorful banners, flapping in the ocean breeze. The dock lead up to a massive metro station that housed the gleaming monorail track, suspended a few stores off of the ground. She could smell the strong aroma of the mass of people climbing the steps to the glass entrance from here.

"Ren Howlett." She heard a woman call.

Her attention instantly snapped back to where it was suppose to be. The woman who had called her name dressed in a well fitted pantsuit, with her dark hair pulled back in a severe looking bun. The shining name tag over her breast pocket declared her "Carrie". She looked over the crowd expectantly, waiting for someone to step forward.

"Yeah," Ren breathed, pushing her way to the front of the huddle, "That's me."

Carrie's eyes traveled from her dusty sneakers, to her cut-off shorts and ratty Pink Floyd tank-top, and then up to her mess of black hair with a doubtful glower. "Okay," She said flatly, with a curt incline of her head, "Over there please."

Ren stepped to the side, rolling her eyes the instant she had her back turned to the woman. She was used to people making snap-judgments about her, but that did not make it any less annoying, or less painful. She dropped her bag onto the concrete, crossing her arms as she waited for the next name to be called, her amber eyes fixed on the HR Rep like a cat watching a mouse.

"Daisy Henderson." Carrie called, continuing down her list and marking the names as she went, "John Malone. Tonya Spears. Jennifer Franks. Beth Johnson. And, Oliver Mason."

Oliver grinned at her excitedly as he carried his and Daisy's cases to where Ren stood, with Daisy close by his side. "You didn't tell me that you were working at the Hilton?" He whispered as Carrie continued to busy herself with her papers, "Where in the hotel are you guys working?"

"The Overlook Restaurant." Ren replied in a hushed tone, "I'm supposed to be a waitress."

"Oh!" Daisy's pale lips split into a smile, momentarily forgetting her nausea, "Me too!"

"Shut up!" Oliver's grinned broadened as he set the bags at his feet, "I'm working at The Overlook, too! I'm the new line cook."

Daisy looked relived, "Oh, thank God. I was so worried I'd be all nervous on my first day because I didn't know anybody."

"Alright everyone," Carrie began proficiently, shouting to be heard over the chatter buzzing between her seven new workers as she tucked her clipboard under her arm, "Grab your bags and follow me."

She led them to a waiting Mercedes passenger van about 50 yards down the port. Massive and white, it had a blue line down its side and the Jurassic World logo stamped on the front doors. Its tailgate was open and waiting for their luggage. And, the driver was already behind the wheel with his seatbelt fastened across his chest.

"Now," Carrie stated loudly as they began stacking suitcases in the trunk, "Some of you are probably wondering why we don't just take the monorail to the hotel? Let me tell you why. Jurassic World employees are more than welcome to use the monorail to get around the island. That being said, most of the park's employees prefer to take the staff shuttles, like this one. The monorail is often over crowded, and guests will ask you questions if they see you in your uniforms. And, they will most likely make you late to wherever you are going. Taking the shuttles is a much faster way of getting around the park. Plus, they also take you places that the guests aren't welcome. Like, the staff housing units. So, everybody climb aboard, and we'll get on our way."

"Where are we going first?" A tall girl in a cotton blouse, who Ren took to be Tonya, asked as she rounded the van and climbed through the sliding door.

"The Hilton Isla Nublar." Carrie told her, "You lot are going straight into your orientation. You'll be given your work schedules and uniforms there. After that, your group mentors will show you to your living arrangements, and go over the finer points of life on the island with you. And, this is very important: _listen to you mentors_. They may be the difference between working in paradise and getting your asses fired. Got it? Good."

All seven of them managed to fit comfortably between the van's three back seats. Ren, Daisy, and Oliver had claimed the far-back bench, with Ren taking the left-hand window seat. She only half listened to Carrie as she began explaining their benefits package, medical insurance and what have you. But, Ren did not need medical insurance. So instead, she watched the tropical scenery as it sped by.

The passing minutes quickly turned into a half an hour, and she had yet to see anything other than the monorail running alongside the road. Carrie had fallen quiet, and everyone else had taken to talking amongst themselves. Ren, however, was lost in thought as she continued to stare blankly out the window.

As excited as she was, she was twice as scared. This was the first time that she had been on her own since she had escaped from the Weapon X program. Since then, she had always had someone right there that could help her. Someone that could protect her if she could not protect herself. It had gotten to the point where she had felt smothered by it. But, now that she was here, thousands of miles away from home, part of her missed that closeness. That feeling of safety in numbers.

More than anything, though, she missed Logan. She missed his attitude, and his smell. Was it possible that she had made a mistake?

"Ren!" Daisy suddenly grabbed onto her arm and pointed out the window, shaking her from her musings, "Look!"

The road had split away from the monorail's path, coming up over a rise, and for a second they could see the entire park. Ren's eyes widened with delight, leaning forward in awe. She had seen photographs in her pamphlets, but they did not do it justice.

A gigantic, manmade lagoon was surrounded by gleaming streets and buildings. It was a perfect sapphire in a frame of silver and emeralds. The winding paths stretched out in all directions, leading to every fantastic thing that Jurassic World had to offer, and a shining thoroughfare led up to a colossal building, that looked to Ren like a volcano constructed of stone and glass.

She smiled to herself, suddenly reassured in her decision.

A few minutes later, the shuttle had come to a stop, and they filed out in front of the enormous Hilton Isla Nublar. Or, rather they filed out behind it, facing the "staff only" entrance.

"The Hilton Isla Nublar has 5,000 rooms." Carrie began yet another lecture, "With a staff of over 500 employees in the hotel alone. There are two kitchens in the hotel, which you all have been selected to work in. We have the main kitchen, which is relatively large, and it provides the room service for all 5,000 rooms, and also caters events throughout the park. They do make deliveries to the more remote areas on the island, as well. We have a lot of employees that work long hours in the field and are unable to make it back to the resort for meals, so the park employs several supply-runners specifically to take care of its more isolated staff."

She took a deep breath, before continuing on efficiently, "The second kitchen belongs to The Overlook, which is the hotel's five-star restaurant on the top floor. It offers our guests a 360 degree view of the park while they dine on Michelin star dishes created by some of the top chefs in the world." She eyed Ren tentatively, once again doing a sweep from her shoes to her hair, "They expect a higher standard there. So be prepared. Our head chef, Alejandro Gomez, could make Gordon Ramsey quiver."

Ren scowled at her as she threw her duffle over her shoulder and followed the prissy HR Rep inside.

"Jesus." Oliver hissed angrily from behind her, "Could she be any less subtle?"

She sighed, shaking her head, "I'm use to it."

"Well," He whispered, making sure Ren was the only one who could hear, "She's still a bitch. And, by the way, Honey… I love all this." He gestured to her clothes and hair animatedly, "It's honest."

"Thanks." She told him with a small smile, genuinely touched.

They entered into a maintenance passage, lit by harsh lights that ran in a line down the center of the ceiling. Everything smelled like industrial cleaner and bleach. The sterile hallway seemed never ending. She had begun to lose patience when, suddenly, she walked straight into a solid wall of thick, overpowering odor. Instantly overwhelmed, the musty mix of so many different aromas made her head spin, and she brought her hand up over her nose, her features wrinkling in disgust.

"Hey," Daisy looked at her with concern, "Are you okay?"

"Hmm...?" She hummed, the voices droning in the distance ringing in her sensitive ears. Hundreds of them, all talking at once and echoing off the walls, mixed together with heavy footsteps and wheels rattling over a stone floor. Her head throbbed painfully, and she rubbed at her temple.

"You okay?" Daisy repeated, frowning now.

"Fine." Ren lied, readjusting the strap of her bag, "It's just a headache."

Daisy did not seem convinced, "Okay?"

They came to a sudden stop in front of two metal doors. "Alright," Carrie ordered them as she shoved them open dramatically, "Stay together now, and do not wander off."

They stepped out into an enormous atrium made almost entirely of steel and glass. Palm trees towered up out of the dark stone floor, and the harsh synthetic light was instantly overtaken by warm, welcoming sunshine. They followed Carrie through the dense sea of people, all of them packed together tightly as they stepped off the monorail and entered into the Hotel's lobby, chasing their manic children around the many information stations.

Ren instantly felt claustrophobic. The smells, the sounds, and the closeness tore into her violently, immersing her into complete sensory overload.

Every muscle in her body tightened in unison, her stomach churned in protest, and she broke into a cold sweat. Bracing herself against the large kiosk in the center of the lobby, she forced herself to take a deep breath through her mouth.

"You're sure you're okay?" Daisy pushed, placing a dainty hand on her muscular shoulder.

Ren jerked away from the contact, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine. Like I said… Just a really bad headache."

"I think I have some aspirin in my bag." Daisy told her, immediately reaching for the zipper.

"No." Ren stilled her hand by grabbing onto her wrist, and then quickly released it. "That's okay." She muttered, her tone apologetic, "It won't help. Trust me… I'll feel better once we get out of here."

Their group climbed onto the escalator in twos, riding it up to the top. Waiting for them there, in front of the Hotel's front desk, were two women who both held an extreme, authoritative presence. One was dressed in a pristine chef's coat, while the other wore a slender black dress with matching pumps. Both had their hair pulled back tightly and their makeup neatly done without a smudge or strand out of place. Their hands were folded behind their backs, with their spines perfectly straight, as they waited patiently for the group to gather around them.

"Thank you, Carrie." The chef told her pointedly, "We'll take them from here."

"They're all yours." Carrie replied, turning to leave. She smirked at them as she passed, taking the time to look at Ren specifically, "Good luck."

"My name," The chef began diligently, "is Chef Amelia. I am Chef Alejandro's Senior Sous-chef, and I am in charge of both kitchens when he is not here. And, for those of you working in those kitchens, I will also be your mentor for the next two weeks. So, please step forward when I call your name."

She fixed her almond eyes on each of them as she listed the names from memory, "Tonya Spears, Beth Johnson, and Oliver Mason."

The three stepped forward, and Amelia smiled for the first time, her dark eyes twinkling knowingly, "Okay, then. You three, follow me."

Oliver waved discreetly to Ren and Daisy, shooting them a feigned expression of fright, followed quickly by a relaxed smile, "Later."

Ren and Daisy returned the gesture with murmured goodbyes as they watched him disappear into an elevator.

"Wow. Looks like some of you have already made some friends." The young woman in the tight dress smiled at them smartly, continuing as she glanced from face to face, "I guess that means you all are with me. I'm Lydia, and I'm the General Manager at The Overlook. And, I will by _your_ mentor over the next two weeks."

She gazed around, sticking her tongue between her teeth as she grinned wickedly at them, "I get that this is new to all of you. So, I'll try not to crack the whip too hard over the next few days. But, just so you know, I have no tolerance for excuses. If you mess up, tell me. We all make mistakes. Take responsibility for your actions, and we can work together. However, hide them from me. _Lie_ to me. And, I promise that you will find your ass on the first ferry back to the mainland. Got it?"

No one spoke.

"Okay," She eyed them steadily as her grin turned more troublesome, rubbing her palms together, "Let's get started, then."


	5. Chapter 3

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 ***Re-edited 4/30/2018  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Renegade was exhausted.

Jet-lag had begun to take its toll as she climbed the steps to the apartment complex's second floor balcony. Her legs and arms felt heavy, and her eyes itched with fatigue as she dragged her dufflebag behind her. All she wanted now was to collapse into a warm bed and sleep for the next eight hours.

The sun was setting over Isla Nublar, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and red, with the dense jungle below was black against the dazzling horizon. The temperature had begun to drop as the sun sank lower. The air was still stiflingly warm, filled with the scent of the ocean and the rich foliage, but the humidity was not as oppressive. There was a refreshing breeze blowing in from the east, only helping to lull her into an even more relaxed state as she leaned against the railing at the top of the stairs.

"Oh my God," Daisy sighed as she clambered up behind her, "Please, tell me we're there?"

"Almost." Ren nodded to her with a tried grimace, indicating the walkway in front of them with a jut of her chin, "Should be just down that way."

Daisy groaned, sitting down heavily on the top step, "I'm not going to make it! Go on without me!"

Ren snorted, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips.

Orientation had lasted another five hours after they had arrived at the Hilton. Lydia had first taken them into a conference room on the ground floor, where she had reiterated all the safety measures and protocols that they had gone over on the ferry, before moving on to the restaurant's operating procedures and their individual duties as wait staff. She had paced in front of them as she lectured, her heels clicking almost threateningly on the dull colored floor, her face set in a strict, and unforgiving expression. All signs of her smile had vanished the instant they had sat down.

Everything had all been fairly straight forward as far as Ren was concerned. She had been a waitress before. Or rather, Rachel had, back before her misadventures with the Weapon X program. And, thanks to the Professor, she remembered the basics of it. She was fairly sure she would pick it up quickly.

After about three hours of just talking over the rules, their mentor had then marched them up to the top floor. The instant the elevator doors had opened, Ren felt out of place. Never in her life had she stepped foot in is such an extravagant and expensive eatery.

The Overlook was impressive. _Opulent_ was really the only word that Ren could think of to describe the lavish dining room, dripping in crystals, amber, and gold. The space was completely surrounded by massive panes of glass, with breath-taking views visible no matter where you were seated in the restaurant. Natural light flooded in, gleaming off the polished surfaces, the hardwood floor, crystal wine glasses, and sparkling china. The room was beautiful, like something out of a fantasy, and Ren had found herself wanting to be part of the story.

As incredible as the dining room had been, the restaurant's kitchen had been equally as imposing. The many chefs, dressed in stark coats and tall white hats, had rushed between rows of gleaming stainless steel as delicious aromas wafted up into the air off the sizzling stovetops. There, Lydia had introduced them to the infamous Chef Alejandro, the restaurant's executive chef. He was a large, boisterous man, who had taken great pleasure in deftly explaining his menu to them as he plated his signature dishes, preparing each of them with incredible finesse before inviting their group to taste.

The food had been delicious, and Ren had wished she had had a plate all to herself as she listened to the chef explain what wines pared best with what dish. She had been fascinated, but it was not long before her head had begun to spin from information overload. Thankfully, Chef Alejandro had given them each a binder with a copy of the menu and wine list, along with strict instructions to study up, or get out of his restaurant.

Ren had hoped that that would have been the end of their welcoming. Even her healing abilities could not stop her feet from aching, or her eyes from drooping, but she had not been so lucky.

Lydia had then taken them into the employee break room behind the kitchen. There, she had handed each of them their work schedules for the next two weeks, paper-clipped to maps of both the hotel and the island. She then proceeded in fitting each of them for their uniforms which, she had explained, would be delivered to their residences the following morning after the alterations had been made. And then, at long last, she had escorted them to the shuttle stop behind the hotel, presenting each of them with a set of keys and a packet stamped with their address on it. As for finding their apartments, they were on their own.

"Come on." Ren grumbled, shifting the duffle on her shoulder as she straightened back up, "The sooner we find them, the sooner we can get some sleep."

"Uuuugh…" Daisy moaned, rising back to her feet, "Alright! Alight. I'm coming."

They continued down the walkway. Ren's posture tensed as they entered into the unfamiliar area, passing Complex B's courtyard below, with the swimming pool glistening in the sun set. She sniffed the air around her warily, a mixture of human smells and chlorine wafting under her nose. She could hear various sounds coming from the occupied units, but nothing seemed to be out of place. There was nothing strange, or threatening, or anything to suggest that there was anything out of the ordinary here.

"B6." Ren muttered, stopping in front of the plain door to her left and turning to Daisy, "This is you, right?"

"Yes." Daisy breathed, relieved, forcing her key into the lock and nearly falling through as the door opened, "See you tomorrow?"

"Yep." Ren replied with a tired sigh, "Bright and early."

"Don't remind me." Daisy grunted bitterly, "Good night."

"Night."

Ren continued passed Daisy's apartment, her steps heavy on the concrete. Turning a corner, she walked parallel to the road until she found her own dwelling eight units down. She sniffed at the door guardedly, placing her hand flat against the plaster before sliding it down to the knob. Unlocking B14 slowly, she threw the heavy door all the way open with a single shove and took a step back.

She sniffed again, the smell of fresh paint and industrial carpet cleaner drifting out to her from the doorway. Her eyes quickly adjusting, she scanned the dark room for any unwanted presences before cautiously stepping inside. She found the light switch directly to the left, the room flooding with yellow light from the ceiling fixture as she slowly closed the door behind her, making sure to click the lock back into place.

The apartment's front room was divided into two sections. There was a small kitchen with a shinning steel refrigerator and a small matching stove, a single basin sink, and a round dining table surrounded by four teak chairs. The space was cordoned off from the living area by a tall counter that wrapped around from the far wall. A plush, russet sofa was pressed up against it, accented with a few olive throw pillows that matched the curtains. Next to it, on a small side table, sat a thin bamboo lamp and a paperback travel guide to Isla Nublar. A modest flat screen television sat on an entertainment stand opposite the couch. And, a few framed paintings of fossils decorated the fresh white walls.

"Home, sweet home." She muttered to herself, stepping all the way inside.

She began down the short hallway to her right and almost immediately stopped again, pushing open the first door to her left and switching on the light. The bulbs above the mirror switched on, harsh in the small space. Sticking just her head inside, her duffle collided softly with the narrow doorframe as she peered around the washroom.

The porcelain sink was set in a small bamboo vanity to her left, next to the standard toilet, and across from the tall, wooden selves stacked with fresh, white towels. The shower was surprisingly spacious considering to size of the rest of the room, sealed behind a frosted glass door. And, a woven, sea green mat sat in the center of the floor, on the toffee colored tile that continued halfway up the walls.

Impressed, she continued down to the end of the hall. There was a small storage closet directly in front of her. The top shelves were brimming with stacks of fresh linens, blankets, and more towels. There were also a few bottles of shampoo and various other toiletries in a wicker basket. And, under that, there was a stack of cleaning supplies, a mop, and a vacuum cleaner. Nodding in approval, she shut the door and turned to the final room to her right. Stepping inside, she sighed, a relieved smile tugging at her lips.

A beautifully made, queen-size bed was the focal point of the room. A supple, jade colored duvet was stretched tightly across the tall mattress, piled high with fluffy pillows, and accented with rich earthy tones that matched the tall headboard. A lean, teak nightstand stood next to the right-hand side of the bed, mounted with a bamboo lamp and white shade that matched the one in the living room. On the opposite side, next to a window covered with rattan blinds and draped with green curtains, was a teak wardrobe with brass handles. And, a twin set of warmly stained, wooden doors hid the moderately sized closet to her left.

Ren dropped her bag on the bed and took a deep breath, her tight muscles instantly uncoiling as she twisted her neck and shoulders. She was going on nearly 60 hours of no sleep, having been so anxious the night before her flight that she had spent the night wandering the mansion. And, the multiple flights and layovers had been far too noisy for her to get any real rest, what with the sheer number of people in trapped together in such confined spaces. Honestly, she was lucky to have gotten through the trip without stabbing someone.

It had been an unbelievable long day.

She unzipped the duffle bag with a single yank and, shifting the jumbled disarray of clothes around, she pulled a framed photograph from the mess. Taking a moment to admire it, she smiled lovingly at the picture of her and Logan leaning against Scott's 1965 Shelby Cobra. They had taken the fiery red classic it out for a joyride just moments after Quicksilver had zoomed in and taken the picture, and Cyclops had been absolutely furious. To this day, it was still one of her favorite memories of the two of them.

She placed the photo on the nightstand, next to the digital alarm clock. The glowing numbers currently read 6:13. She groaned, returning to her bag as she continued to unpack.

She knew that she needed to stay awake. She need to acclimate herself to this time zone. But, she was so tired. All she could think about was the soft bed in front of her, and diving face first into the pillows.

Her eyes practically glazing over, she pulled a bundle of shirts from the tangled clutter. She stripped it apart, shirt by shirt, until she revealed what had been hidden inside. A large knife in a dark leather sheath fell into her open palm. She scowled down at it, feeling its immense weight in her hand as she considered the elegantly crafted, Adamantium blade. Her gaze shifted to her knuckles, white from her tight grip, and she felt a sudden flood of anger surge up from her subconscious. Immediately, she strode back to the nightstand and placed the weapon hurriedly in the top drawer, shutting it a little too sharply and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Ren rubbed at her knuckles absentmindedly as she let her thoughts drift, feeling the solid metal under her skin. She shivered.

She let herself fall back onto the bed. Pulling her feet up, she quickly tugged the sneakers off her aching feet and tossed them across the room, where they landed on the carpet with a muffled thud. She kicked at the duffle bag impatiently, still half full, and shoved it off the foot of the bed. Bitterly deciding to finish unpacking in the morning, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her mouth. At once, she felt herself melting into the bed's soft comforter, and she let the blackness of exhaustion take her.

It had been a very long day, indeed.

* * *

 _Renegade was terrified._

 _Shadows circled in her periphery, whispering to one another in low, hushed tones. The metallic table under her was freezing. It bit at her naked body, stinging sharply at her exposed skin as she frantically struggled to lift herself off the icy surface. Heavy bars clamped down on her shoulders, hips, wrists and ankles, pinning her in place. She was completely immobilized; trapped, vulnerable, and helpless._

 _"Please!" She begged, eyes wide and hysterical as salty tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, "Please! Don't! Don't do this!"_

 _A large, calloused hand erupted from the gloom, grabbing her roughly by the forehead. It slammed her skull back down painfully, twisting her spine until it was straight and holding her in place by her temples. Its partner appeared in the harsh, surgical light, forcing an industrial oxygen mask down over her nose and mouth._

 _"Please!" She cried, the plea muffled by the plastic, "No! Stop! Stop!"_

 _She could smell the scorched metal. Hear the vat of molten alloy as it bubbled somewhere above her head._

 _The hands retreated. Above her, the mechanized rack of tubes and drills clanked into position. Dozens of thick needles dangled above her, strategically placed to line up with the measurements drawn onto her skin. Each razor-sharp shaft was a fourth of an inch wide, and nearly a foot long._

 _"Begin."_

 _"NO!" Ren screamed into the mask as the table slowly began to sink into the water. She trashed against her restraints, but they did not move. The water lapped against her body, slowly devouring her as she sank into the glass tank._

 _The whine of the drills reached her ears, a high pitched mechanical squeal that turned her blood cold. The needles above her began to spin, their jagged mouths turning red hot. Steam rose as they breached the water's surface, thrusting downward._

"NO!" Ren howled.

Bolting upright in bed, her instincts took hold. She fisted her hands in front of her defensively, her claws bursting from her knuckles with a piercing _snikt_. Her heart was racing uncontrollably as she desperately tried to suck air into her lungs, still feeling the slick plastic of the oxygen mask on her face. Cold sweat trickled down her spine, and her stomach rolled dangerously as she quickly pulled her feet in towards her. Trembling all over, her wide eyes darted around the dark room frantically as she struggled to remember where she was.

Her gaze landed on the alarm clock, its digital face reading 9:48 in bright, blue numbers. She released a few hurried puffs of air, and then groaned.

Her heart rate began to slow, and Ren forced herself to take a series of deep breaths as she retracted her claws, the skin on her knuckles resealing itself as she rested her face in her hands. Dragging her fingers down over her eyes, she dropped her feet over the edge of the bed. The soft carpet under her toes was reassuring as she ran her fingers back up through her untidy black mane. Standing, she carefully made her way out into the dark hallway.

She had forgotten to turn the lights off in the living room, and she found herself shielding her eyes against the sudden glare as she strode passed the counter to the refrigerator. Opening the stainless steel door and bending down, she scowled angrily at the empty shelves. She growled, slamming the door shut and sighing, "Perfect."

Digging through the cabinets, she found them full of basic, white china. She pulled down a glass and filled it with water from the tap, emptying it in a few quick swallows and setting it back onto the counter with a heavy _clunk_. Leaning against the sink, she shivered. The central air was particularly cold on her sweat-slicked skin.

Ren stepped outside, instantly enveloped in the warm, humid air as the door clicked shut behind her. The balcony's concrete floor was cool and rough under her bare feet as she leaned her elbows onto the metal railing and immediately felt herself begin to unwind.

If the sunset over Isla Nublar had been beautiful, than the night sky was absolutely magnificent. Never in her life had she seen so many stars. Millions upon millions of them glistening above her, the countless points of light in the endless black warmed something deep inside her, chasing away the blackness in her thoughts and allowing her to breathe again.

She sniffed, grinning softly. The air was clean here. There was a slight odor of car exhaust, chlorine and oil, but most of what she smelled was natural and earthy. She sighed again, this time contented as she leaned lower on the railing, her long curls blowing gently in the warm breeze coming off the ocean.

That was when she heard it. A deep, low rumble vibrated through the trees. She was momentarily taken off guard by the strange sound, instantly straightening up and tensing. She turned her head, tucking her hair behind her ear as she concentrated on the direction the noise had come from. Another soft roar, low and haunting, came over the tree tops. It was quickly followed by another, and another. The sounds were soothing, almost musical, as they radiated over the island.

"Wow," She breathed quietly, her amber eyes widened in astonished delight, "They're singing."

"Hey!"

Ren jumped, startled by the sudden raucous call. She searched for the source anxiously, her eyes finally dropping down to the roadway. A group of four people were standing along the edge of the asphalt, two of them holding flashlights.

"Hey!" The man called again, "Mother Ren!"

She sniffed and smiled, narrowing her eyes to see passed the glare of the lights.

Oliver was huddled together with Tonya and Beth, bouncing on the balls of his feet on the side of the road, trying to get her attention. It took her a moment to recognize that the fourth as Chef Amelia. She had let her chestnut hair fall straight around her shoulders, with large hoop earrings shiny out from under the strands. She had traded in her chef's coat for a pair of denim shorts and a bright orange tank top.

"Come on!" Oliver shouted to her, grinning as he waved for her to join them, "We're gonna go get a drink!"

Her grin widened, holding up her hand to signal that she would be there in a moment. Turning on her heel, she hurried through her apartment door and down the hall to her bedroom. Locating her Converse on the floor, she slipped her sneakers back on and, taking a few seconds to tidy her wild hair in the bathroom mirror, headed back out the doorway.

Having locked the door securely behind her, she jogged down the walkway, only to skid to an abrupt stop as she turned the corner, nearly colliding with Lydia as she stepped out of Daisy's apartment. John and Jennifer were waiting by the railing as Daisy stepped out behind her, yawning as she pulled on a cotton over-shirt.

"Oh!" Lydia exclaimed, surprised, "Hi! We were just coming to get you."

"Um… I just saw Oliver," Ren frowned, pointing passed the railing, "I was going to go meet up with him…"

Lydia's surprised expression transformed into a dazzling smile, and Ren took notice that she had also let her blonde hair fall loose around her shoulders, having changed into a short blue dress and sandals.

"Well, we're all going to the same place." Her mentor told her, motioning for her to follow as she started back down the balcony, "So, come on."

"Wait!" Ren called after her, her brow furrowed in confusion as Jennifer and John made to follow her, "Where are we going?"

* * *

"Alright! Alright!" Amelia yelled loudly, a mischievous grin on her pretty face as she called for the room's full attention. Their small group walked through the heavy swinging doors, entering the bar to the sound of the young sous-chef exclaiming rowdily, "Fresh meat! Comin' though!"

The entire bar erupted into obnoxious applause.

After waking the new crop of employees in the middle of the night, their mentors had dragged them a few miles down the road to a large wooden building, directly on the island's east beach. Its general structure reminded Ren vividly of a rundown roadhouse, the kind you might see on the side of a Texas highway, but it had been outfitted with tacky luau decorations and Tiki torches around its entrance. There was no sign above the doors, nor was there a name anywhere on the building to proclaim what it was, or who was welcome there. Just a gravel parking lot full of Jurassic World vehicles, loud music, and a welcoming glow coming from inside.

Ren had smelt the beer, the booze, and the fried food a mile up the road, and it had nearly knocked her over as she pushed the door aside and stepped over the threshold. The roar of clapping hands and cries of enthusiasm was jarring, and she had to fight her natural urge to turn around and leave.

"Oh, God!" Daisy cursed quietly, instantly trying to hide behind Ren's smaller, muscular form, as she peered bashfully over her shoulder.

Every eye in to large room was fixed squarely on them. Even Ren felt the blood rising in her cheeks.

"Welcome," Lydia greeted them with a sadistic smile, "to Nowhere."

"I'm sorry," John interrupted, holding up his meaty hand, "Where?"

"Nowhere." Lydia repeated, her smile revealing far too many teeth, and it was starting to make Ren feel uncomfortable.

"Why's it called 'Nowhere'?" She asked pointedly, glancing around to avoid looking at Lydia's giddy expression.

The space was massive and open. Closest to them was a long, oak bar with a polished copper top, lined with over a dozen wooden barstools. The shelves behind it were stocked with, what appeared to be, every liquor known to man, and were illuminated by strings of multicolored Christmas lights. The dimly lit main floor was littered with two dozen round tables, and the walls were all lined with high-backed booths, each illuminated by their own individual lamp dangling from the ceiling. Various neon signs decorated the area, advertising beer and booze from all over the globe. An old fashioned Juke box glowed in the far corner. And, toward the back and down the steps, there was a series of large pool tables, a few dart boards, and a handful of arcade games which included a pinball machine and a neon lit, air-hockey table.

"Great question." Lydia stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to the bar around them, "For the longest time, there was nowhere for the employees to go on the island to relax. Nowhere for us to go to have fun away from the resort… And, away from all the tourists. It got kind of crazy. So, we talked the upper management into building us this place, which we named 'Nowhere'."

"So," Oliver asked loudly, struggling to be heard over the music, "Only employees are allowed in here?"

"That's right." Amelia grinned at him, brushing her silky hair out of her face, "Employees only. And, it's open to everyone, no matter where you work. From the head honcho, all the way down to the lowly ride operator. This is where we all go to get away from the park."

They followed Lydia and Amelia through the sea of occupied tables, heading to the back of the bar. Ren felt her claustrophobia creeping in, and she was relieved when they came to an isolated booth in the far corner. One of the other tables had been pushed up next to it, making enough room for everyone to sit. Oliver and Daisy slid onto one of the benches, while Ren claimed the chair next to them, still looking around the busy room inquisitively.

Daisy leaned closer to her, eyeing Lydia and Amelia as they took the chairs at the end, "They come and pull us out of bed in the middle of the night and take us to a bar? Why do I suddenly feel like I'm pledging a sorority?"

Ren suppressed a laugh, biting down on the inside of her cheek as she mumbled back, "Hell week. Isla Nublar."

Almost immediately after they had sat down, a pretty waitress in a black Jurassic World polo appeared, placing a large tray of shot glasses on the table in front of them. Each glass was filled with a dark, almost black liquid, which Lydia and Amelia wasted no time in handing out to each of them.

"We're not your bosses just yet," Amelia began, holding up her own glass with a warm smile, "Tonight, Lydia and I are your friends. We're here to welcome you all to our home. So, without further ado… Welcome to Jurassic World."

"And, we hope you all love it here as much as we do." Lydia finished, raising her glass to them, " _Salud_."

They all raised their glass to their mentors in unison, repeating in muttered tones, " _Salud_."

Ren tossed the mystery liquor back with a single swallow and nearly choked. "Aaah!" She gasped loudly, her face puckering with disgust as she swore, "What the fuck is that?"

Lydia and Amelia laughed loudly. Ren was one of only three that had managed to keep the drink down, the other two having been Oliver and Jennifer. Everyone else had immediately spit the drink back into their glasses, gagging and scrunching their faces in revulsion.

"Tar Pit," Lydia smirked, still sniggering, "You're all officially one of us now."

"So have fun," Amelia giggled as she set her glass mouth-down on the table. She took a step back, "Eat. Drink. Enjoy yourselves… It's all on us."

"And, don't any of you be late tomorrow." Lydia stated menacingly, her face suddenly deadly serious as pointed a threatening finger at each of them. Then, backing towards the door, she said almost musically, "Good night."

They left, still laughing as they disappeared through the swinging doors, leaving the seven starring in silence at one another across the table.

Oliver looked down at his empty shot glass, running his fingers across the rim, "Why do I feel like this is a trap?"

"Yeah," Jennifer breathed uncertainly, pushing her empty glass away, "I think I'll just head back…" She stood up, her eyes suddenly round as she swayed dangerously. She quickly sat back down, resting her forehead in her palm, "Shit. What the hell's in those things?"

Ren swallowed thickly, still tasting something similar black licorice on her tongue, "I don't know, but I think I need a beer to chase it down. Anyone else want one?"

"No thanks." Oliver groaned, scowling from the sickeningly sweet taste in his mouth, "That shot just kicked my ass."

"Daisy?" Ren asked as she stood, solid on her feet.

"Sure." Daisy agreed with a hesitant shrug, shoving her glass of tar away, "We're already here. I guess we might as well enjoy ourselves for a little bit."

There were a few murmurs of agreement around the table as the remaining glasses of booze were placed gingerly back on the tray.

Surefooted, Ren headed to the bar. She had learned a long time ago that, unfortunately, her mutation also applied to her liver cells, making her physically incapable of getting drunk. She could down all the booze and beer she wanted, but the intoxicating affects would never last more than a few seconds before fading away. Though, on the plus side, she had never had a hangover.

She marched up the few steps to the main floor, weaving through the tables to reach the bar, when she suddenly found her path blocked. The man standing in her way was just under six foot tall and well-muscled. He had his brown hair cropped in a high and tight, and his v-neck tee hanging loose around his waist. He was grinning crookedly at her, like he knew something that she did not, and was lording it over her.

"Hey." He greeted her coolly with his hand on his belt as he leaned against one of the many pillars.

"Hi." Ren sniffed and scowled. The smell of his Axe body spray was only momentarily overpowered by the vodka on his breath, "Can I help you?"

"What?" He placed his hand over his heart as though she had hurt him, "You don't remember me?"

She did not answer. She just continued to frown up at him in irritation.

"Oh, that's right…" He continued boldly, leaning in closer, "We've only met in my dreams."

She snorted, rolling her eyes and blatantly showing her repulsion at his idiotic pass, "Christ, where'd you get that? BuzzFeed's top five worst pick up lines?"

Unfazed, he continued to smile drunkenly at her, "Got you to talk to me, didn't it?"

"True." She took a step to her right, attempting to move around him, "But, now your intelligence is in serious question."

He slid to the side, cutting off her escape and taking a step closer to her in the process, "So, what are you doing tonight?"

Ren glared up at him, "Having a beer with my new co-workers. So, if you'll excuse me…"

She made to push passed him, but he grabbed onto her arm, his fingers digging into the skin just below her elbow as he yanked her even closer. Bending down, he muttered huskily in her ear, "I mean, in terms of us?"

Her skin crawled at the unwanted contact. The fingers on Ren's right hand instantly curled into a fist and a low, warning growl escaped from deep in her throat. It took every ounce of self control she had to keep her claws from bursting out and connecting with his face. "Yeah…" She snarled, ripping her arm out of his grip and taking a few quick steps towards the bar, "I'm not interested."

"Your loss." He bellowed after her, stumbling back towards the pool tables.

"Asshole." She breathed quietly, stepping between two of the stools and leaning against the bar.

"Clive Thompson, everybody." The man two stools down muttered in agreement. He was in his early thirties, with short, dark hair, and black horn-rimmed glasses. There was a good amount of scruff on his face, particularly over his upper lip. His pale, almost waxy, complexion indicated that he did not spend much time in the island sun. And, his Metallica t-shirt smelled like Doritos and diet soda.

Nodding slowly, he took another sip of his beer, "Guy thinks he's the shit just because he's in the ACU."

"ACU?" She asked, frowning.

"Asset Containment Unit." He explained, looking down at the bottle in his hands casually, "They keep the dinosaurs where they're supposed to be. They're mostly ex-military, steroid riddled, meat-heads, who think they run the park. But, don't let that sell you."

"So, what," Ren chuckled, turning to face him with a devilish smirk, "They're _dino-mercs_?"

He raised his eyebrows, considering the term, and then nodded again, "Yeah. Pretty much." He looked at her for the first time, smiling good-naturedly, "You new?"

"That obvious, huh?"

He held up his thumb and forefinger, "Just a little. I'm Lowery."

"Ren." She introduced herself, still smirking at him.

"Well, welcome." He greeted her, setting his bottle down, "So, what do you do?"

"Oh, um…" Ren stammered, "Nothing exciting. I'm a waitress at the hotel. Or, I will be tomorrow, anyway."

"First night?" Lowery's grinned widened, "Did they make you drink the Tar Pits yet?"

"Unfortunately." She snickered, "What about you? What do you do?"

"Actually," He crossed his arms on the bar in front of him, "I work in the control room."

"Wow." Ren muttered, slightly impressed, "That sounds important."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Lowery sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders and pushing out his chest, "So, ah… I don't suppose I have a chance with you...?"

She blinked, surprised, and then shook her head slowly, "No. But, to be fair, I'm so exhausted that the Hemsworth brothers wouldn't stand a chance tonight."

"Wow." His eyes widened in mock shock, "You must really be beat. I'm pretty sure that Liam could turn me."

A loud laugh burst from her lips, and she took a moment to deliberate. "Well, you're not going home with me, but…" She looked towards the back of the bar and grinned impishly at him, "You seem like a sweet guy." She pointed to their table in the corner, "So, there are four other girls in my group back there that are just as new as me. Why don't you try your luck with one of them?"

Lowery looked at her with genuine surprise. "Oh, wow…ah…" He struggled. Standing, he straightened his t-shirt and grinned at her coyly as he took a few steps in her group's direction, "Um…Thanks…Wow, cool."

Ren turned back to the bar, waving to get the bartender's attention. He nodded to her and then held up a large hand, motioning for her to wait as he continued filling the dozen odd glasses in front of him.

She sighed heavily, letting her head fall forward between her elbows on the bar, her hands sliding up into her curls as her forehead collided with the copper. This night felt like it would never end. Even with the five hours of sleep she had gotten earlier, she was drained. Part of her wanted to just forget the beers and go back to her apartment. After all, she still had the two mile walk back to look forward to.

Ren took a deep, frustrated breath in through her nose, and immediately stood straight up. The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end and she sniffed again, her heart rate increasing rapidly as the unfamiliar scent wafted up off the bar in front of her. It was strong. Independent from anything else in the room. Her body instantly tensed, reacting to the odor involuntarily, almost instinctually. It was like nothing she had ever come across before. A curious mixture of Ivory soap, engine grease, and something that was unmistakably predator. But, there was something else. Something under all that that she could not place.

She inhaled the aroma again, tracking it along the floor, through the swinging doors, and out into the dark parking lot. Her sneakers crunching on the gravel, she stalked down the line of vehicles until she came to an empty spot. The rocks and dirt had been upturned with a good amount of force, and recently too. Kneeling, she examined the tire tracks that had been left behind in the mud. They were from a motorcycle with wide, off-road tires and a thick, dimpled tread pattern.

She lowered herself onto her hands and knees, leaning down with her face only inches from the ground, she took another deep breath. The mysterious smell threatened to consume all her other senses.

Ren was not sure how to describe it. Under the clean smell of the soap and the machined scent of the grease, there was something else. Something sweet. Try as she might, she could not place a name to it. It was warm, and rich, and it made her feel things that she could not fully describe. It was like the smell of fresh apple pie as it was being pulled from the oven. Like the smell of melted chocolate drizzled over strawberries and ice cream. Like something forbidden that you crave when you wake up late at night and cannot sleep.

She stood with her heart still hammering in her chest, following the tantalizing scent out to the empty road. Staring in awe down the winding asphalt as it disappeared into the jungle night, she whispered softly, "What are you?"

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 **Reviews are much loved! Thank you.**


	6. Chapter 4

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is rated T for language and adult situations.**

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 ***Re-edited 6/23/2018  
**

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 **Chapter Four**

It had been a week since she had first arrived at Jurassic World, but the last seven days had all blurred together in an endless progression hours split between work and her apartment.

Renegade collapsed onto the hard break-room chair with a soft groan, immediately bending forward and yanking off her black pumps. She tossed them aside heatedly as she began rubbing her burning feet, watching as the small, angry blisters on her heel shrank into nothing. She ran her thumb over the smooth, new skin in their stead, sighing in relief as the sting vanished.

The door suddenly swung open. Ren looked up from her tired feet, watching as Daisy strode in and sat down heavily across from her, crossing her arms and laying her head on the table. "You okay?" She asked gently, uncrossing her legs and pressing her bare feet against the cool floor.

Daisy lifted her head and smiled wearily at her, "Just a little tired."

Ren nodded, glancing down at her discarded shoes, "Two more hours."

Daisy craned her neck, looking over the tabletop at her feet, "Yours look a lot better than mine. I hate these stupid shoes. Who the hell came up with the bright idea of putting waitresses in heels?"

Ren continued to look down at her unmarred feet guiltily. She could only imagine what Daisy's looked like. She scowled, "A man, probably."

"Maybe I should get some of those gel inserts?" Daisy wondered aloud, twirling a strand of hair around her finger absentmindedly, "Do you think that'd help?"

Ren opened her mouth to reply, when the door opened again. Lydia rushed in, her own heels clicking on the floor as she crossed to the break-room's refrigerator, threw the door open, and bent down to pull a bottle of water from the shelf. Her short dress rose up revealingly as she did, and Ren turned away modestly. She was not sure which was more ridiculous, the tight black skirts and white blouses that the waitresses were required to wear, or the cocktail dresses and dangling jewelry that Lydia wore to indicate that she was management.

Their mentor turned, having downed the entire bottle and tossed it into the recycle bin. She smiled at them before her gaze dropped down to Ren's bare feet and discarded shoes. "I know they suck." She told them honestly, "But, it does get easier. You just need to build up some calluses on your feet."

Ren and Daisy shared an unconvinced look.

The Overlook only operated during dinner hours. Seven days a week, from 5:00pm to 11:00pm, the restaurant at the top of the Hilton served the best and most expensive food on Isla Nublar. That being said, all employees had to be there by 3:00pm to prepare for service, and stay until midnight to clear down the dining room. And, nine hours was a long time to be in heels.

Both Ren and Daisy were exhausted and sore. Between the on-the-job training, studying Chef Alejandro's complex menu and wine pairings list, moving into to their apartments, and finding their way around the island, neither of them had had much time to relax. Aside from work, they had seen very little of each other since their night at Nowhere, and neither of them had managed to catch a single attraction in the park.

"It gets better." Lydia assured them with a light laugh, "Just remember to breathe."

For the third time in as many minutes, the door burst open. The three women turned their heads in unison as Jean-Luc, the restaurant's overly uptight maître d **'** , scrambled through the doorway in a panic. His normally impeccable hair was askew, and his neatly tailored suit was somewhat disheveled. " _Mon dieu_! He es 'ere!" The frantic Belgian exclaimed in his thick accent, "He es 'ere! Ond he did not call a 'ead! Nothing es readee!"

"Who?" Lydia questioned, frowning at him in alarm.

" _Monsieur_ Masrani!" He cried, "He 'as come for a meeting with _Mademoiselle_ Dearing! She jus' called! They are on their way now!"

"Alright!" She told him, her voice calm and even as she raised her hands in a soothing gesture, "Alright. Just calm down."

"Calm down?" He nearly shouted, his anxiety rising with his voice, "Calm down! We 'ave nothing prepared! We don't 'ave—"

"Jean-Luc!" She barked, her tone suddenly sharp as she cut him off, "Do we have a table?"

He hesitated, " _Oui._ We can get one."

"Then get one!" Lydia demanded, practically chasing him out of the room. She took a deep breath as the door closed behind him. Pacing back and forth, she folded her hands in a prayer position in front of her face.

"Masrani?" Ren asked evenly, leaning forward on the edge of her chair, "As in Simon Masrani? The guy who owns this place?"

"Yep," Lydia confirmed with a worried grimace, turning to her with one hand on her hip and the other against her temple.

"I read somewhere that he's, like, the eighth richest man in the entire world." Daisy muttered in awe, her eyes somehow even rounder than normal.

Lydia made a strangled noise deep in her throat, clearly distressed as she continued her pacing.

"Who's Dearing?" Ren pressed, looking from Lydia to Daisy in query.

Lydia looked annoyed now. She arched her elegant brows, both stunned and irritated with the question, "Claire Dearing is the Senior Assets Manager. She runs the entire park."

"Oh..." Ren exhaled, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Her lips split into a nervous grin as she considered this new piece of information, "Both our bosses at one table? Yeah. No pressure."

Daisy shot her a disapproving glower from across the table before turning back to their mentor with a supportive, "What can we do?"

Lydia took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as she stopped mid-stride, whirling around to face them again, "Okay. I'll wait on the table myself. Daisy, I know you're still on break for another twenty minutes, but I need you to help. I'm pretty sure Masrani will like you…" She scowled, quickly adding as an afterthought, "No offense, Ren."

Ren shrugged dismissively, "None taken. I know I'm not the most… _cuddly_ person."

Lydia smiled at her weakly, motioning for Daisy to follow her, "Yeah, you might want to work on that."

Ren smiled back numbly as she watched them disappear into the kitchen, the door clanking shut loudly behind them. Alone now, she blinked several times, dropping her eyes to the floor as her cheery mask cracked and then shattered completely. She sighed deeply through her nose, scowling down angrily at her painted toes and rubbing at the knuckles on her right hand.

Rationally, she knew that Lydia had not meant to upset her. It was actually a sound piece of advice for their profession. But, by affirming her flippant statement as fact, Lydia had also confirmed a growing suspicion of hers.

On some level, however minute, the people around her could sense that she was different from them. Her surroundings may have changed, but not her. She was still the same person she had been at the Institute. Still sarcastic, sullen and distant. Ren could pretend things were changing all she wanted, but the fact was she was still broken goods.

She slipped her pumps back on and stood, pulling her skirt down around her thighs before striding to the small, rectangular mirror hanging on the far wall. A few dark tendrils had escaped from the tight knot on the back of her head and had dangled down around her face, having refused to remain confined by the pins and copious amounts of hair gel. She had put on makeup, which was something that she rarely did, and had encased her amber eyes in dark liner and had painted her lips a bright scarlet. Scowling at her reflection and unable to recognize the woman in the mirror, she straightened the collar of her button-down blouse and let out a slow breath. She secured her impassive mask back in place, setting her mouth into a confident smile and straightening her shoulders before heading for the door.

The kitchen was stifling, just like it always was. Ren's kitten heels clicked across the solid floor as she strode past the gleaming line, the harsh sound was drowned out by Chef Alejandro as he bellowed out orders by table. She caught site of Oliver, sautéing something on the stove and winked at him as she passed, her lips curling slightly. He gave her a subtle, mock salute in return, flames suddenly shooting up from within his pan as he skillfully flambéed whatever it was that he was working on.

"Ren!" Jean-Luc called to her from the beside the dining room door, looking up from the seating chart in his hands with an urgent frown. He pointed to her animatedly, " _Vingt_!"

" _Oui._ " She replied swiftly, sliding through the door and out into the lavish dining room in a single, fluid stride.

If it were possible, The Overlook was even more stunning at night. The ambiance was inviting and romantic, with the soft lighting glistening off the teardrop chandeliers and amber accents. The glow gave the hardwood floor and chairs a richer color, while the white tablecloths and seat cushions took on a golden hue. Soft music played in the background, serenading the guests with gentle melodies. The tall panes of glass around them provided breathtaking views, no matter which direction you turned. The park was brilliantly lit to the west, while the dark jungle and the river glimmered in the east, and the mountains loomed magnificently to the north. All blanketed under the velvety night sky and waxing moon.

Ren headed straight to table number twenty, toward the back of the dining room. The tables there were a bit more secluded and spread further apart from one another. She found twenty occupied by an overly affectionate, young couple. They were both dressed to the nines, with the man in a neat, black suit that exaggerated his shoulders, and the woman across from him in a tight, glossy pink dress with matching stilettos and large gold earrings. They were gushing over each other, unable to break contact for more than a few seconds at a time.

It was nauseating.

"Hello," Ren greeted them with a fake smile as she came to a stop beside the table, "How are you this evening?"

"Oh, wonderful." The woman informed her, fluttering her synthetic lashes at her male counterpart, "Absolutely wonderful."

"Great." Ren forced her grin to widen, "Glad to hear it. My name is Ren, and I'll be taking care of you tonight." She paused for a moment, taking the time to observe the couples' demeanor a bit closer, "Is this a special occasion?"

The man nodded, lacing his fingers with the woman's, "It's our honeymoon, actually."

Ren's grin faltered as her inner filter cracked, muttering cynically under her breath, "Oh, bless you for coming out in public."

"I'm sorry?" The man asked, leaning forward to hear her better.

"I said, would you like to hear tonight's specials?" She replied quickly, catching herself.

"Sure." He said, his gaze drifting back to his new bride.

"Tonight, Chef Alejandro has prepared two specials." Ren recited diligently, "We have a red wine braised beef short rib with a potato purée and sautéed wild mushrooms. And, we also have his take on a classic fish and chips, which is a battered Chilean sea bass with truffle chips, paired with a crème fraîche tartar sauce. They do go great with the chef's mac and cheese, which is made with blue, cheddar and parmeasan cheeses, and topped with black truffle shavings."

"Oh my god," The woman looked up at her with wide, brown eyes, "That all sounds so good." She looked down at the open menu in front of her, shaking her head, and then back up at her husband, "I don't know what to choose."

"What would you suggest?" The man asked with a pleading look.

Ren got the expressed feeling that this truly was a special occasion for them. They may have been dressed lavishly, but the closer she looked at them, the more they seemed out of place. And, the more they seemed truly uncomfortable in their surroundings.

She took a step closer to the table, lowering her voice, "Where are you from?"

The man looked surprised by the question, "Um, Enid. Oklahoma."

Ren's expression turned genuine, with a small, tranquil smile. "Go with the steak." She told him, "Get the Bone-in New York Strip and pair it with the fingerling potatoes and the asparagus with the citrus beurre blanc. And, if you really want to splurge tonight, upgrade that to the beef filet, and add a butter poached lobster tail. You know? Mix it up a little and make a surf and turf."

"That sounds perfect." He told her with a relieved sigh, "Honey?"

His wife nodded in approval, smiling at him, "Yes. Perfect."

"Good." Ren nodded, pulling a small tablet out of her apron pocket and electronically entering the order, "And, would you like to see the wine list while you wait?"

His face immediately fell, "Well, I…um…"

"Go with red." She winked at him, "The Zinfandel, or the Merlot."

"Oh, Zinfandel," He wife nodded, "Please."

"You got it." Ren said with a smirk, tapping a few buttons on the tablet, "I'll just go get that for you now, okay? Enjoy."

She left them to their marital bliss, quickly moving to the large amber bar that enveloped the entire back wall. Nodding to the bartender, Lou, she rounded the counter and bent to pull a bottle of Zinfandel out from the cabinet, along with two red wine glasses and a glass decanter. She set them all on a round tray behind the bar, before uncorking the bottle and pouring the rich wine into the flask to let it breathe.

"Oh, wow…" She heard Lou exhale beside her, shocked, "He wasn't supposed to be back for another couple months."

Ren turned around quickly. Lydia promptly appeared, gracefully leading two people through the crowded dining room, talking to her guests with a wide smile on her crimson lips. She graciously sat them at the table nearest the bar, waiting patiently to the side as the man in the expensive suit politely pulled out a chair for his redheaded companion to sit, before he took his own seat across from her.

"Is that Masrani?" Ren questioned quietly, watching discreetly as she set the empty wine bottle on the bar.

"Yep." Lou muttered out of the corner of his mouth, rapidly busying himself with whatever he could find, "Better be on your best behavior tonight."

She scowled at him, irritated, "Why does everyone think I'm going to screw up?"

He did not answer.

Ren sighed, watching as Daisy coyly approached the table with her tablet already in her hands.

"This is Daisy." Lydia introduced her, gesturing to the young waitress with an elegant wave of her hand, "She just started here last week."

"Ah!" Mr. Masrani exclaimed joyously, his voice colored with a well-educated tone and thick Indian accent. He smiled at her cordially, true delight illuminating his dark eyes as he opened his hands welcomingly in front of him, "Wonderful! And, how do you like my park?"

"Oh," Daisy smiled nervously, glancing down at her feet, "I love it. It's been a real adventure. I mean… I haven't really had much time to explore the park, but I've really liked everything I've seen so far."

Masrani shook his head, giving Lydia a stern look, "Here a week, and she has not seen the park? No, no. Unacceptable. Lydia, you are working this poor girl too hard." He turned back to Daisy with a wide smile, "Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir." Daisy answered quickly, glancing anxiously at Lydia, afraid she had said something wrong.

"Not anymore." He informed her firmly, his eyes sparkling, "Tomorrow, I will show you around the park myself. You will see everything this island has to offer."

Daisy looked stunned. "Mr. Masrani, sir," She began quickly, shaking her head frantically, "You really don't have to…"

"She's right," Lydia broke in, "I mean, I can give her the day off, of course, but—"

"Nonsense!" Masrani exclaimed loudly, shaking his hands dismissively at Lydia, "We must all learn to relax a little. To enjoy life. So, tomorrow, I will show her the park. There is nothing I would enjoy more."

"But, Mr. Masrani," The redhead began cautiously, "We have a meeting with the Intel tomorrow mor—"

"I'm sure you can handle it, Claire." He grinned at her knowingly, "You always do."

Ren made sure the full decanter and the twin glasses were secure on her tray before lifting it gingerly and making her way back to table twenty. She found the married couple engrossed in conversation, talking animatedly to one another with wide, excited smiles. She almost hated to interrupt them as she set the tray onto the table's edge, but they did not seem to mind. She placed the glasses in front of them, lifting the decanter and carefully filling them with wine. They muttered their thanks, and she set the flask in the center of the table with a curt nod, before taking her tray and heading back towards the bar.

Lou quickly took the tray from her and replaced it behind the bar with a grin, "Your friend seems to have made quiet an impression on the big boss."

She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Daisy continued to chat warmly with Simon Masrani. He seemed to be truly enjoying their conversation, leaning forward in interest as Daisy described her first week on Isla Nublar. Even Ms. Dearing seemed to be engrossed in the topic, smiling at Daisy courteously with her hands clasped on the table in front of her, laughing along with her boss when Daisy described drinking the revolting Tar Pits on their first night here.

Ren shook her head disbelievingly, amazed by how easily Daisy was able to connect with people. She would have been lying if she had said she did not envy her, "How the hell does she do that?"

Lou shrugged, polishing the glass in his hands, "Maybe she can put in a good word for you?"

She scowled at him, her lips starting to curl up over her teeth angrily as she opened her mouth to tell him off. But, she was abruptly interrupted by a loud commotion coming from the front of the restaurant.

"Excuse me, sir?" She heard John call out anxiously, "You can't just— Sir? Sir!"

She twisted around hastily, something in to tone of John's voice causing her heart to race and her veins to run cold. She sniffed the air. The delicious aromas of food and wine were instantly overtaken by the sour smell of sweat and something decaying and metallic that reminded her of hamburger that had been left out in the sun. Frowning in alarm, she watched as John's bulky form appeared, stumbling backwards clumsily as a large man repeatedly attempted to force his way passed him.

Lydia straightened instantly, quickly turning on her heels with a reassuring smile to Mr. Masrani and Ms. Dearing before striding over to the bar. She tried very hard not to appear panicked as she bent forward and urgently whispered to Lou, "Call security! Get them here now!"

Lou nodded, rapidly crossing to the telephone and immediately picking up the receiver to dial out.

Ren watched as the man continued to push his way forward, the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up. The intruder was tall and bulging, easily over six foot and 250 pounds, dwarfing John as he struggled to stop the man's advance. He was very clearly out of place, wearing a flowered Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts with open toed sandals. She imagined that was why John had attempted to stop him from entering the restaurant in the first place. He clearly violated the establishment's strict dress code. But, it was immediately apparent to Ren that something about this man was very off, and more so than his wardrobe choice.

He was visibly sweating. Beads of perspiration were rolling down his forehead and gathering on his damp collar and under his arms. But, what she found most disturbing was his sent. The closer he got, the more she could smell the taint of fear and adrenaline rolling off of him in waves. Her gaze swept over his mass again, her stomach clenching with dread as her eyes locked on the white container clutched in his hand.

More staff members had joined in the attempt to stop the trespasser as the restaurant patrons became more and more distressed by his presence. Waiters and waitresses moved in front of him, holding out their hands warningly, but no one would get closer than a few feet. Once he broke that barrier, they would jump to the side, at a complete loss for what to do.

Ren's fingers instinctually curled into a tight fist. She felt the sharp sting of her claws as the razor-edged points slowly peaked through the skin on her knuckles. She had begun to take a step forward when Masrani suddenly, and very calmly, stood up. He buttoned his suit jacket, turning to face the stranger genially. She stopped, retracting the twin blades, with her skin quickly hiding the fact that they had ever been there.

Masrani raised his hands, gesturing for the staff members to let the man through. Sharing nervous glances with one another, they reluctantly did as the billionaire asked and stepped aside, letting the strange man shove his way through the mass of tables.

The intruder stopped a few feet away. "Simon Masrani?" He asked hoarsely, his vocal chords tight with anxiety.

Claire Dearing slowly stood as Lydia carefully made her way back to the table. "Where is security?" The Senior Assets Manager asked her in a hushed tone, her blue eyes round and her mouth set in a thin line.

Daisy was frozen where she stood, only a foot away from the mounting confrontation between the two men, her breath caught in her throat as her gaze darted frantically between the two.

"May I help you?" Masrani asked the man cordially, his face cold and collected. His spine was painfully straight as his right hand rested flat against his abdomen.

The intruder violently thrust the container in his hand forward.

Masrani instinctively threw his arms up to shield his face as a dark liquid splashed over him. Next to him, Daisy screamed in terror, the same rank fluid coating her front, splashing over her face and blouse in a red wave. And then, everyone was shouting. Panic erupted in the dining room as patrons jumped up from their chairs, rushing to get away from the deranged man.

The stranger took another threatening step forward, shouting irately, "This place is an insult to God! You're all going to Hell! You—"

He never got the chance to finish his rant.

The instant Ren heard Daisy scream, the edges of her vision had tinted crimson. She immediately rushed forward with quick, angry strides. Her right fist tightened until all color had left her knuckles and she growled deep in her throat, not caring who heard as the animal inside her raised its head and gnashed its sharp teeth. Her nostrils flared, capturing the man's disgusting scent as she hastily forced her way between Daisy and Masrani. Enraged beyond reason, she brought her fist down hard, slamming it into the side of the intruder's face with an earsplitting, metallic _clang_ that radiated throughout the restaurant.

The trespasser instantly collapsed to the floor, unmoving.

The entire dining room fell silent. Ren stood over the man's unconscious form, her breath escaping in short, ragged huffs. She was not sure how long she stood there, glaring down at him, but slowly the red in her vision began to fade and she once again became aware of her surroundings. She took a deep breath in through her mouth. Bringing her hand up and running it shakily though her loose hair, her wide eyes glanced around the room at the dozens of frightened faces watching her. Her heart froze in her chest as she realized what she had just done. She looked back down at the man, still out cold, and swallowed thickly.

Turning to Daisy, she watched her friend's round eyes drop down to the thick, red liquid soaking through her white shirt and coating her open palms. Ren sniffed again, immediately realizing what the metallic scent coming from the container had been. And, by the look on Daisy's horrified face, she knew too.

Blood.

"Oh my God." Masrani breathed in utter shock, looking down at his suit as it dawned on him.

Daisy's eyes immediately rolled back into her head and her knees buckled under her, giving out completely as she fell to the floor in a dead faint. Her head collided loudly with the hardwood as startled gasps erupted from all over the room.

"Daisy!" Ren cried, leaping forward and dropping down next to her. She shook her gently in an attempt to rouse her, "Daisy! Hey!"

She did not respond.

"Get a medical team up here!" Masrani ordered loudly, kneeing down across from her as he removed his jacket. Folding it into a cushion, he gently lifted Daisy's head and slid it underneath as the staff around them buzzed in a panic. Security had finally arrived, locking the unconscious man's arms behind him with zip-ties, and ushering the restaurant guests quickly out of the dining room.

"Somebody!" He demanded more forcefully, "Get me a doctor! Now!"

* * *

Ren stood outside the exam room at the hotel's medical clinic, leaning beside the door with her arms folded over her chest. She was bristling all over, every muscle achingly tight as she replayed the events at the restaurant over and over in her head.

Claire Dearing's voice drifted in from the hallway, on her cell phone for what must have been the third time in the last half hour. Someone had leaked the incident to the press and she was desperately trying to reassure them that Jurassic World was still the safest theme park in the world. Ren supposed that that was important. If nothing else, it was her job. But, at the moment, it seemed to be a very trivial concern to her. After all, Daisy was in the other room getting an MRI.

Claire Dearing was quickly beginning to annoy her.

Lydia was sitting in one of the chairs to her left, her face buried in her hands. She was visibly shaken from the events upstairs, her knee bouncing nervously with her heels cast-aside uncaringly on the tile floor. Her smart-phone sat dormant and waiting on the seat beside her.

Ms. Dearing's voice suddenly fell quiet, and Ren looked up. The door to the hallway abruptly opened, and Mr. Masrani hurriedly entered with the Senior Assets Manager trailing loyally after him. He had changed into another expensive suit with a lavender dress shirt, crisp and free of blood, though Ren could still smell the metallic taint of it on him. He immediately turned to Lydia, tugging at his collar, "How is she?"

Lydia looked up from her hands, her face extremely pale and her lips trembling, "The doctor says she might have a concussion. They're doing an MRI now to be sure. But, um... They think she'll be okay."

Masrani sighed with relief, closing his eyes as he let the good news wash over him, "Thank God." He turned to Ms. Dearing with an adamant expression and added, "We will cover her medical costs. All of them."

Ms. Dearing nodded in agreement, her red bob bouncing from the movement as she pulled out her phone again and made a note, "Of course."

Lydia's phone began to ring loudly and she startled from the sudden noise. She picked it up, looking at the screen and taking a deep breath. In that instant, dread came over her pretty features. "I have to take this," She informed them quietly, "It's her parents. I left them a message…"

"Of course," Mr. Masrani nodded to her, "Please, give them my sincerest apologies."

"I will, sir." She muttered as she stood and moved quickly out into the hallway.

Ren had fixed her unwavering eyes on Masrani the moment he had entered into the room, her jaw clenched. "This kind of thing happen often?" She asked him icily, her sharp gaze piercing into him.

He turned, seemingly surprised to see her there. Swallowing thickly, he shook his head. "No." He told her earnestly, "Never."

She considered him coolly, "You've made an entire corporation devoted to genetic manipulation and the undoing of a mass extinction. I have a hard time believing this the first time you've clashed with religious zealots."

Ms. Dearing frowned at her, "What exactly are you implying?"

"Claire," Masrani calmed her quickly, "Please. She has every right to question this." He conceded solemnly, "I would be lying if I said I was unaware of a growing unhappiness against Masrani Global, and InGen specifically. There are certain groups that have been speaking out against us in recent days. But, so far it's mostly been small protests outside our facilities. Nothing like this has ever happened before. I can assure you."

Ren sighed deeply through her nose, frustrated, but satisfied by his answer, "Alright."

"I'm sorry," Ms. Dearing spoke up again as she continued to frown at her, "Who exactly are you?"

"Ren Howlett." She introduced herself sharply, returning her boss' questioning glower.

"Well," Ms. Dearing began harshly, "Ms. Howlett… As grateful as we are for your help, do you mind explaining to me why you didn't wait for security like everyone else?"

Ren blinked, surprised by the woman's blatant ungratefulness, sweeping her eyes over the executive judgingly. She scowled at her costly shoes, her tight pencil skirt, the matching blazer, and her perfectly done makeup. There was not a strand out of place as her straight, red hair bobbed above her shoulders, and she had practically bathed herself in a flowery designer perfume that made Ren's sinuses ach. Her skin was coated with a thin layer of talcum powder to absorb her sweat. And, the nails on her long fingers were all neatly manicured.

She narrowed her eyes defiantly, "I don't understand the question."

"You deliberately put yourself in harm's way." She reiterated bleakly, "That man was clearly dangerous. And, for all you knew, he could have had a knife, or a gun, or—"

Ren snorted bitterly, rolling her eyes, "That's what you concerned about? Liability?" She pushed herself off the wall, taking an assertive step towards her, "I'll tell you what, next time I'll let the crazy guy kill you. Okay?"

"Excuse me?" She snapped back, shocked.

"You heard me." Ren growled at her, in no mood for her bureaucratic nonsense, "Have you even stop to think about what happened? About how lucky you are? What if it hadn't been animal blood in that container? What if he'd thrown acid? Or gasoline?"

Ms. Dearing gaped at her, at a loss for words.

"I did what needed to be done to prevent further harm." Ren stated direly, "You don't like it? Then fire me."

"That will not be necessary," Masrani informed her with a troubled frown, "And, I am truly sorry that this happened to you."

"It's not your fault." Ren told him honestly, turning her gaze away from Ms. Dearing and leaned back against the wall, "The world has just gone crazy."

"Yes, it seems so." He admitted grimly.

"Any idea who he is?" She pushed, "Or why he went after you?"

"No," Masrani state flatly, "He had no identification on his person, and apparently, his jaw is broken in three places, so he won't be talking anytime soon."

Ren was unable to hide the devilishly satisfied smirk that crossed her lips.

"I appreciate what you did." Masrani confessed to her with a curt nod, "You may very well have saved our lives. I won't forget that."

"I don't want anything from you." She told him bluntly.

He smiled back at her, amusement shining in his eyes, "None the less, why don't you and Daisy take tomorrow to enjoy the park? I'm afraid, with all of this, I won't be able to escort her like I'd offered. So, please, both of you… Take the day. Rest. Enjoy life." His grin turned almost sad, "After all, it may be much shorter then we think."

* * *

 **Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you.**


	7. Chapter 5

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 ***Re-edited 6/23/2018**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Oliver was waiting for them outside Daisy's apartment when they finally made it back to the employee housing complex. The instant he saw them, his face paled in the overhead lamps' harsh, yellow light, and he leapt up from the concrete. Rushing down the walkway, he held his arms out in a silent offer to help.

It was three in the morning by the time they had climbed the stairs to the second floor balcony. Ren had her arm wrapped tightly around Daisy's slender shoulders, allowing her to lean against her with her full weight as they walked. Although the hotel doctor had discharged her a little over an hour ago, Daisy was still unsteady on her feet. The long scrub pants she had been given to change into were not helping the situation, snagging on the ground with every other step she took. And, while moving up the stairwell, she had been suddenly overtaken by a fit of vertigo. She rested her head against Ren's collar bone, her eyes closed in an attempt ward off her dizziness.

"Jesus." Oliver swore, moving backwards with his arms still out as Ren continued to pull Daisy towards her apartment door, "Is she okay?"

"Yeah." Ren told him quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "She's just got a good size bump on her head."

Daisy grimaced, adding with a groan, "And a monster headache."

Daisy had been lucky. Despite the horrible sound her head had made when it had collided with the dining room floor, the MRI had reviled that her concussion was a relatively minor one. In fact, the doctor believed that she would begin to feel better within the next 12 hours. Until then, however, Daisy had to be watched closely to make that sure her symptoms did not worsen.

Oliver opened the door, holding it open as Ren gently helped Daisy over the two inch threshold. Her apartment was almost identical to Ren's. The only differences were the multitudes of framed photographs placed throughout the small space. There were over a dozen of them, revealing the smiling faces of Daisy's large family, and Ren sincerely wondered how she had fit so many in her bag.

"This seems to be becoming a habit of yours." Ren teased her lightly as they slowly made their way down the hall to Daisy's bedroom, "Me, carrying you in like this? I mean, first you couldn't find your sea legs, and then…" She chuckled, once again thinking back to their first night together, "Then, you were so drunk you couldn't walk straight."

Daisy moaned again as Ren carefully sat her down on the edge of the bed, "I was not drunk."

Ren glanced over her shoulder at Oliver, sniggering in the doorway. "Of course you weren't." He grinned impishly at her as Ren eased Daisy's head down onto the pillows, "Our little lightweight."

"Bite me." Daisy grumbled, pulling her feet up and rolling onto her side.

Ren circled to the end of the bed, carefully removing Daisy's shoes. She frowned when she noticed the raw flesh and blisters coating her slightly swollen feet. Heatedly tossing the blood spotted pumps across the carpet, she pulled the blankets up over her friend's curled form and tucked the covers in around her tightly. "Get some rest," She told her as tenderly as she could manage, through to her it still sounded rough, "I'll be back in an hour to check on you."

Switching the bedroom light off and softly closing the door behind her, she followed Oliver out into the living room. He collapsed onto the sofa with an exhausted sigh as Ren continue into the kitchen and immediately opened the refrigerator. To her dismay, Daisy had no beer. Like her father, Ren had an affinity for the alcoholic beverage, though its affects were wasted on her. And, boy, tonight of all nights, did she need one. Instead, she pulled out a red can of Coke from behind the milk carton and popped open the tab, turning around and leaning with her abdomen against the tall counter.

"So," He began, lifting his feet up onto the cushions and laying long-ways on the couch with his hands folded on his stomach, "What happened?"

Ren frowned down at him over the counter's lip, "Guy came in. Started screaming about God. How he hates everybody. How we're all going to Hell. Blah, blah, blah... You know, the typical religious fanatic shtick. And, then he threw a bucket of cows' blood at Masrani. Daisy was just standing too close. Got caught in the middle."

Oliver looked disgusted, "Cows' blood?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "Masrani had the techs at the genetics lab run it. He wanted to make sure there was nothing infectious in it."

"I don't blame him. But, cows' blood?" He shook his head, "What the fuck? I mean, where did the guy even get it?"

"From one of the steers they feed the carnivores, apparently." Ren informed him coolly, "Security found surveillance footage of the guy breaking into one of the restricted storage areas on the west side of the park."

Oliver raised his eyebrows, "Well, that was quick."

"Yeah, well," Ren sighed, "When you're one of the richest men in the world, you tend to get things done."

He considered this for a moment, "I guess. But, cows' blood? Shit. I still don't see the point. I mean, seriously? Why? Just, why?"

"There is no point." She told him grimly, her frown deepening, "Crazy is, what crazy does."

"Maybe Masrani's a Hindu?" He pondered aloud, "They worship cows, right?"

She shrugged again, taking a sip of her soda, "I didn't ask."

Oliver continued to stare patiently up at her. Ren knew he was waiting for her to continue the story, but she just sipped quietly on her Coke with her amber eyes fixed solidly on the aluminum can clasped between her hands.

"And..?" He finally pushed, sitting up and turning to look at her directly.

"And, what?" She ignored his bait.

"Oh, come on!" He whined, frowning at her now, "Are you really going to make me ask?"

Ren sighed deeply through her nose, looking up to the ceiling pleadingly as her shoulders slumped forward above the counter, "I stopped the guy. Okay?"

Oliver's frown instantly transformed into a wide, knowing grin. "Oh, I hear you did more than just stop him." He exclaimed excitedly, "I heard you laid him out!" Leaning forward, he mimed a punch in the air, "Just, _BAM_! One punch and he went down!"

"Yeah," She admitted nonchalantly, "That's pretty much what happened."

"How are you so blasé about this?" He laughed in amazement as he stood, moving around the counter. He reached out with both hands and grasped onto her shoulders, giving her a playful shake, "Bitch, you're a badass! Work it! Own it!"

She instantly squirmed under his touch, gritting her teeth as she pulled away from him with a snort of derision, "Totally. I'll get right on that."

"I'm dead serious." He insisted, placing his hands on his hips and smirking at her, "Girl, Rhonda Rousey better watch out!"

"Okay." She dismissed him, embarrassed as she stepped around him and quickly took a seat on the sofa, "Are you done now?"

Oliver dropped down beside her, his expression suddenly turning serious as he looked over her again. "Not quiet." He admitted, "Can I…ah… ask you a question without you getting all offended?"

"If I said no, would it stop you?" She smirked crookedly at him.

"No." He admitted adamantly, returning her grin.

She nodded, taking another swig of cola, "Then ask."

"Okay…" He began anxiously, facing her with his hands on his lap, "Yours and Daisy's relationship… ah… How you've glued yourself to her since we got here. It's a little weird to me. I'm not sure I really get it. I mean, Daisy is this quiet, shy, little…I don't know. And you, well… You're friggin' _Xena_. "

Ren raised an inquiring brow, scowling at him humorlessly.

He immediately threw up his hands defensively, quickly continuing, "Don't get me wrong! I think its sweet how you look out for her! Admirable, actually. But, Ren, you just threw yourself in between her and a crazy person! You were willing to put your life in danger for someone you just met a week ago! There has to be a reason for that?"

She sighed deeply, looking down at the now empty soda can in her fingers and cursing under her breath, "It's kind of hard to explain."

"Try me," Oliver challenged her with a warm, patient smile as he rested his thin hand on her forearm supportively.

Ren considered her options as she fixed her unwavering eyes on his hand. "She…ah…" She faltered, her voice suddenly raspy as she pulled her arm away, "She reminds me of a rabbit, I guess."

He blinked a few times, visibly confused, "Ah-huh…"

Ren let out a noise that was somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a groan, "Yeah, you know… Like you said, she's quiet and shy. Like a rabbit. This delicate little creature, gambling around, completely naïve about the world around her. Just happy to be alive in that moment. Ignorant to all the danger. And, helpless. She wanted to go on an adventure, so she ran off to the other side of the world, all alone. Oblivious to all the foxes and hawks waiting for her."

"Wow," He stared her, his mouth hanging open, "That's a… beautifully crafted metaphor."

She grimaced at him, snarling irritably, "I'm being serious."

"So am I!" He insisted honestly, his eyes widening, "Really!"

Ren contemplated his reaction coldly, her upper lip still twitching. She finally forced herself to take a deep breath, dropping her eyes to the floor to quell her sudden anger. "I like to think I was like that once." She confessed to him quietly, shaking her head, "Innocent, you know? _Good._ " Locking her eyes on his, she stated unwaveringly, "Good like that? It needs to be protected." She swallowed thickly, a large lump rising in her throat, "I don't want her to lose it like I did."

Visibly swallowing, Oliver's Adam's apple bobbed and his mouth was pressed into a painful thin line as he looked back at her with a knowing dread, "What happened?"

"Someone took it from me." She growled, grabbing onto the top of the soda can with one hand and latching onto the bottom with the other. She twisted her hands and pushed the ends together, easily flattening it into a thin disk.

"So," He pushed carefully, his voice barely above a murmur, "if you're not a rabbit anymore, then what are you?"

Ren nodded slowly to herself, an amused grin creeping across her lips as she chuckled quietly. Looking back up at him, her eyes flashed dangerously, "I'm a _wolverine_."

"I…ah… get the feeling there's a story there, somewhere." He smiled back at her uncertainly, rubbing at the back of his neck, "Wow. That conversation got really heavy, really fast..."

"Yeah." She agreed, laughing anxiously, "Let's skip the late night therapy sessions for a while." She glanced back at the glowing numbers on the microwave, "Speaking of late nights… Don't you have to work tomorrow?"

He looked at the clock and groaned, "Yeah, but… I can stay."

"You don't have to." She told him sincerely, "I can look after her on my own. No problem."

Oliver looked reluctant, "Are you sure? Daisy's not the only one who had a rough night."

"Believe me, I've had much worse." Ren told him reassuringly, "Go get some sleep. I've got this. Really."

"Alright." He sighed, standing and heading to the door, "But, I'll stop in later. Before my shift. Okay?"

Ren found herself alone for the first time that night. Sitting on the sofa in the quite living room, she could hear Daisy's soft snoring drifting in from down the hallway, finally asleep. According to the microwave clock, there was still another forty minutes before Ren had to wake her up and check on her, and she had every intention of letting Daisy have every last second of that.

She released a heavy sigh, letting the stress of the evening melt off of her as she kicked off her shoes and began pulling the many pins out of her hair. Her tight bun had long since begun to loosen, with black ringlets falling freely onto her neck. Dropping the handful of pins onto the small table next to her, the wild locks cascaded down over her chest as she combed through the thick curls with her fingers.

Collecting the television remote from table's drawer, she relaxed back into the cushions and switched on the flat screen. She immediately lowered the volume to a barely audible level. However, Ren's sensitive ears could hear every syllable perfectly as she flipped through the channels, searching for something to keep her occupied. She stopped suddenly when she saw what was on CNN.

The image on the screen revealed a massive protest, over 500 strong, picketing in front of a building with InGen's logo gleaming over the dark windows. A red banner scrolled across the bottom on the screen, proclaiming in bold white letters, "BREAKING NEWS: SIMON MASRANI ATTACKED AMID PROTESTS AT MASRANI GLOBAL'S UNITED STATES LOCATIONS. MASRANI UNHARMED. SUSPECT IN CUSTODY."

Ren immediately leaned forward, practically hissing as she gaped at the mass of people, "Small protests my ass!"

An anchor was calmly narrating the scene, her voice passive as she described the footage of the protest that had raged earlier in the day. "Protests continued for a third day today outside InGen's San Diego Headquarters, with simultaneous protests occurring outside Masrani Global's locations in both D.C. and New York." She stated coolly as the camera zoomed in closer on the signs wielded by the activists, proclaiming much of the same hateful statements that the Overlook's intruder had been spewing, "These large groups have gathered in protest of Masrani Global's and, more specifically, InGen's research into GMOs, or Genetically Modified Organisms. InGen's research into GMOs has taken astonishing leaps forward in the past few decades, and range from their genetically modified foods, to the de-extinction of the dinosaurs now on display at the theme park, Jurassic World."

Ren shifted uneasily on the sofa, instinctively rubbing at the knuckles on her right hand as her anxiety mounted.

"The movement has gained support in recent days due to the widely held belief that GMOs may be linked to the recent rise in the mutant population. While scientists have yet to confirm any connection between GMOs and mutation, hundreds continue to gather in protest all over the world." The anchor continued, the image on the screen shifting to show the portraits of two older men. Both had short hair in varying shades of grey, though the one was fairer skinned, with blue eyes and a tan fedora atop his head, while the other had dark eyes, and wore thick, black glasses. The newswoman's tone changed slightly, taking on a more excited note, "Still, others are speaking out against InGen for their brash use of science. Many academics from all over the globe have been lending their voices in support of the movement, believing that InGen is abusing its research without taking the consequences of such advancements into consideration. This includes both Doctors Alan Grant and Ian Malcolm. Dr. Grant and Dr. Malcolm, you may recall, were among the survivors of the infamous Isla Nublar Incident that claimed four lives at Jurassic Park, 22 years ago."

Ren stared at the faces of the men on the screen. She was mildly intrigued by the idea of these men still speaking out against InGen after 22 years, through all the company's many incarnations. But, in the end, she knew that they could make all the noise they wanted, and it would never make a difference. Not really. Money and power would always triumph over words. That was just how the world worked.

She changed the channel.

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ren asked again, frowning at Daisy in the late afternoon heat.

"For the last time," Daisy reassured her with a small, slightly annoyed smile, "I'm fine. Can we just try to enjoy the rest of the day? Please?"

It was almost sun set, and they had been standing in line for the Gryrospheres for the past half an hour. Daisy appeared to be doing much better. She was steady on her feet at least, and the color had come back into her face. But, with every foot the line had moved, Ren began to wonder more and more whether or not she should be out here.

Earlier that afternoon, Daisy had insisted to Ren that they go out into the park. She had announced very matter-of-factly that she felt well enough to go out and enjoy life, as Masrani had put it. Ren, however, had been as unconvinced then as she was now. And, the two had argued with each other for nearly an hour before she had relented, agreeing to take Daisy to one attraction, and one attraction only.

That argument had immediately been followed by a lengthy discussion about where to go. They had both decided to skip the T-Rex and Mosasaurus feedings in favor of something with a little less blood. Ren had then suggested the Gentle Giants Petting Zoo, hoping it would be easy on her friend who, no matter how well she claimed to feel, still had a concussion. But, Daisy had rejected that idea. As much as she would love to see baby dinosaurs, she pointed out that the petting zoo was meant for small children and she would feel uncomfortable just hanging around there. She had then suggested they go down the river on the Cretaceous Cruise, which Ren had instantly said no to, stating that Daisy was in far too fragile a state to go kayaking. And then, at long last, they came to a compromise. They would ride the Gryrospheres down into the valley.

"You sure you're up for this though?" Ren questioned, still concerned as she glanced anxiously around to the crowd, "You won't get motion sick or something? How's your head?"

"My head is fine!" Daisy insisted heartily, "Relax, okay?"

"You have a concussion." Ren stated flatly, "Your head is not fine."

Daisy grabbed onto her hands and tugged her forward gently, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she whined, "Come on! I've been on this island for eight days and I haven't seen a dinosaur. I want to see a dinosaur, Ren! Don't you want to see a dinosaur?"

Ren bit at her bottom lip. She knew the answer was yes. Yes, she very much wanted to see a dinosaur. But, she was more worried about Daisy's health. "Yeah, but…" She hesitated, squirming uncomfortably.

"Ren," Daisy beamed at her, squeezing her hands tightly, "Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

Ren sighed reluctantly, hanging her head in defeat, "Okay."

They had finally reached the front of the long line, a giant glass sphere rolling up on the concrete track in front of them. The numbers 07 were marked on the back of each headrest as the round hatch suddenly popped open, waiting for them to enter.

"Lucky number seven." Daisy grinned at her, "See, I told you everything would be okay."

They pushed their way through the bronze gate, with Daisy climbing in first. She collapsed down onto the shining blue seat and pulled the silver safety harness down over her head. She fastened it in place as Ren followed her in, buckling her own harness securely over her chest. The hatch slid shut, sealing itself seamlessly alongside the pimple-faced ride operator's unenthusiastic grumble of, "Enjoy the ride."

Ren took control of the joystick, propelling them forward as Daisy looked around excitedly. They rolled quickly down the track, swiftly released out into the wide open, green field. The small monitor between them suddenly switched on, and they both swiveled their heads towards it.

"Hey!" Daisy exclaimed with a surprised laugh, "Check it out! Jimmy Fallon!"

"Hey there!" The celebrity greeted them from the screen. He was dressed in a white lab coat, and was standing in what looked like a high school science lab with glass beakers filled with brightly colored chemicals laid out on the table in front of him, and a detailed diagram of a Gryrosphere drawn onto the blackboard behind him. "Welcome aboard the Gryrosphere!" He continued happily, "The amazing machine made possible by science! Your safety is our main concern, which is why you're behind our invisible barrier system."

"Oh, I love this guy." Ren chuckled, scooting forward on her seat, "He's hilarious."

"Which protects you from things like dilophosaurus venom." He swept his pointer across the table, shattering the beakers in a puff of smoke. Something black and sticky splashed up onto his face, "One drop of this could paralyze you, so watch out!" He looked off camera, a look of concern on his face, "Is this real? It is?" He fell over sideways.

"Is that how I looked when I fainted?" Daisy giggled.

"No." Ren shook her head, smirking at her, "That wasn't funny. At all."

He popped back up onto the screen, unfazed. "And, for added protection, each vehicle is surrounded by aluminum oxynitride glass. So tough, it could stop a .50 caliber bullet." He held up a comically oversized, black revolver as he spoke, taking aim at a thick pane of glass. He fired the weapon, the kick of the gun was accompanied by a loud cartoon-ish sound effect as the pane cracked into a spider-web pattern and fell over. The shelves behind it collapsed into a mess.

He set the gun down on the table gingerly, turning to the chalk drawing behind him, "The gyroscopic technology will keep you upright at all times. So you got nothing to worry about." He smiled at the camera, "So, sit back. Relax. And, enjoy the ride."

The monitor immediately changed into an interactive map, showing their progression through the valley. And, there were buttons along the sides of the screen that could be pressed to show information about the different dinosaur species found there.

"You see anything yet?" Daisy asked, craning her neck to see.

"No. Not yet…" Ren shook her head, pushing forward on the joystick and immediately speeding up as she looked side to side, searching.

Her jaw fell open as they came up over the rise. Instantly straightening her spine and sitting forward on her seat, she strained against her harness. Her amber eyes grew round with amazement and her heart thudded loudly in her chest. Her eyes saw, but her brain did not believe. All rational thought abandoned her, unable to comprehend the sight before them.

"Oh my God…" She heard Daisy gasp next to her in astonishment.

There were dozens of them, all moving together in tight family groups. Massive animals, unlike anything she had ever seen, thundered over the valley floor as they grazed on the tree tops and shrubbery that surrounded the grassland. Some were the size of school buses, while others were bigger than a two story building.

"This is…" Daisy breathed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Yeah…" Ren agreed, transfixed by the magnificent creatures.

She could hear a deep, low rumble vibrating through the air. It was soft, and haunting with an almost musical tone, and she instantly recognized it from her first night here. It was unmistakably the same mysterious noise that had drifted to her balcony on the wind.

Daisy was mesmerized by a Triceratops lumbering along next to them, oblivious to their presence. The gentle giant was nearly thirty feet long with grayish-blue skin that, to Ren's surprise, did not at all look scaly. It let out a loud grunt, forcing hot air from its nostrils as it turned its horned face towards them, the bony frill on its neck standing a good six feet above the top of the Gryrosphere. It huffed at them again, quickly turning away and ambling off toward the tall brush.

The ground under them suddenly shook and Ren's head immediately turned to towards the sound of the impact.

The colossal form of an Apatosaurus wondered towards them from their right, the ground trembling with every step it took. It was over eighty feet long with its lengthy neck swaying out in front of it, and its tail whirling behind it. It had the same grayish-blue hue that the Triceratops did, along with faint teal stripes that painted its back from its nose to the tip of its tail.

Ren brought the Gryrosphere to an abrupt halt as it stepped in front of them, keeping its easy-going pace. The immense herbivore suddenly stopped in the center of their path. Swinging its long neck around, it dipped its head down to look at them with one enormous blue eye, peering through the glass. The creature's huge head was less than a yard from the sphere's barrier.

Ren stared back in wonder, her heart hammering in her chest as she pulled against the safety belt, leaning forward as far as it would let her.

"Wow!" Daisy grinned, her eyes wide like saucers, "I can't believe this!" She turned to Ren, brimming with excitement, "Littlefoot was always my favorite in _The Land Before Time_! I just… Hey?" Her smile quickly faltered, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Ren rasped, barely able to pull her gaze away from the dinosaur in front of them.

"You're crying." Daisy informed her with a worried frown.

Ren reached up and tentatively touched her face, running her fingers along her cheek. She hurriedly pulled them away when she felt the dampness, staring down at the salty tears shining on her fingertips, stunned, "I…um…"

"Ren," Daisy prodded, shifting in her seat to look at her directly, "What's wrong?"

Ren took a deep breath, her throat suddenly tight as more tears streamed down her cheeks. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest, and a heat was coursing through her body. She was vibrating all over, but the sensation was not unpleasant. To the contrary, she felt wonderfully full of whatever this was. Overwhelmed to the point that she was overflowing with it. "I…" She gasped, looking away and watching as the Apatosaurus continued to rumble on its way, "Nothing… Nothing's wrong."

She turned back to Daisy, a broad smile contradicting the tears sliding down her face. She laughed in bewilderment, suddenly recognizing the overpowering feeling. "Nothing." She told her again, sincerely, "I'm just… _happy_."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **I know what you are all waiting for, and I just wanted to take the time to assure you that it is coming soon. Owen will be introduced in Chapter 7. So please, just be patient with me a little while longer as I finish setting up the story.**

 **As always, reviews are appreciated.**


	8. Chapter 6

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 ***Re-edited 6/24/2018**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

"I'm not sure I understand..?" Ren questioned Lydia, tugging uncomfortably at her tight skirt as she gazed across the desk at her manager in disbelief.

She and Daisy had returned to work the following afternoon. However, she had not taken more than two steps into The Overlook's dining room before Lydia had appeared and immediately ordered Ren to come with her. Her tone had been ominous and curt, and Ren had known instantly that something bad was about to happen. But, she had gone with her dutifully anyway, ignoring her dread and leaving Daisy with a reassuring nod as she allowed herself to be led back out to the elevator bank.

The long ride down to the Hotel's sublevel had been spent in complete silence, with Ren glancing restlessly at her mentor, who had purposefully been avoiding eye contact. When the doors had finally opened, Lydia had exited without a word, her heels clicking sharply on the hard floor as Ren followed her down a long hallway before turning into a small, vacant office. She had then been told to sit with a pointed gesture, her supervisor taking the seat opposite her.

Lydia let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with her manicured fingers. "Believe me, Ren," She began sincerely, shaking her head, "This is the last thing I want to do. I really like you, Sweetie. I really do. But, this is just not working out."

"So you're firing me?" Ren asked bluntly, frowning.

Lydia shook her head again, looking across at her with a sad smile, "Be honest with me. Are you really happy waiting tables?"

Ren did not answer her. She bit down on her lip and dropped her eyes to her black pumps. She knew that answer was no. She was far from happy waiting tables. In fact, she hated it. She hated being forced to watch couples in their bliss, knowing that she might not ever be able to feel it for herself. Forced to watch happy families as they gathered around their tables for a communal meal, without a care in the world. To watch people bask in their ignorance, unaware of the true ugliness outside of this island. Normal people.

The truth was, if she was honest with herself, she was not happy at The Overlook. Not happy at all.

Isla Nublar, on the other hand, was a different story entirely. Ren had begun to build something for herself here. However minute or new it might be, it was something. She had made friends. And, she had even begun to feel things again. Things she could scarcely remember ever having felt before. Things that were most certainly akin to happiness.

"I can see how miserable you are." Lydia told her compassionately, "We all can, Sweetie. Even the customers can feel it." She leaned forward with her elbows on the desk, locking her dewy eyes on hers, "I want you to be happy. I really do."

Ren was not sure how to respond to that, but her natural instinct was to be defensive. "You know, people keep saying that. But, I'm really starting to wonder how many of you actually mean it?" Her glower darkened angrily as she released a huff of hot air, adding bitterly, "Does Claire Dearing have anything to do with this?"

Lydia straightened up in her chair, her lips pressed together tightly. She sighed again, looking more troubled than before, "Ms. Dearing did mention to me that she thought the restaurant was not a good fit for you. You know, after the _incident_ the other night. But, to be fair, you did put on quite a spectacle."

Ren bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from shouting, "Funny. Masrani didn't seem to have a problem with it."

"Yes, well…" Lydia scowled at her, "Masrani may own the park, but Claire Dearing runs it. What she says, goes." Her eyes swept over her and softened, her lips slowly relaxing into a gentle smile, "Off the record, I'm thankful for what you did. I really do believe that you might have saved someone's life the other night. Believe me, Ren. This isn't personal."

"So," Ren grimaced, taking a deep, calming breath in through her nose, "What now then?"

There was a soft knock on the office door and Lydia's gaze immediately shifted towards the source of the sound, "Come in."

Visibly irritated by the sudden interruption, Ren turned in her seat, watching as the door swung open.

The woman who entered was extremely tall for a member of the fairer sex, with long, well-toned legs and arms. Her skin had a rich, caramel color, and was painted with bright tattoos that completely enveloped everything from her right shoulder down to her wrist. Her long, dark hair fell down her back in hundreds of tightly woven braids that were randomly streaked with bright purple highlights. Thick, black eyeliner and shadow encased her hazel eyes, and a small nose ring glinted in her left nostril. She was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, hiking boots, and a hunter green Jurassic World polo shirt, which emphasized the flecks of jade in her irises.

Ren was at once taken aback by her presence, unable to help her surprised stare as the woman stepped inside.

"Mel." Lydia greeted her with a wide smile, "Perfect timing, as always."

Mel returned her grin, giving her a small wave as she strode in. She stopped beside Ren, her already raised hand suddenly pointing down at her. "Is this her?" She asked in a posh, English accent.

"Yes." Lydia's smile widened, "This is her."

There was something strange in the way that Lydia was looking at her that made Ren feel extremely uncomfortable. There was an odd twinkle in her eyes, like she knew something that Ren did not. They held a queer mixture of shrewdness, and something that she thought resembled pride.

Mel gave Lydia a doubting frown, circling around Ren with her fingers resting on her chin as she studied her closely, "I don't know..."

"You told me you needed someone tough." Lydia pushed in an unyielding tone as she grinned up at the new comer, "You're not going to find anyone tougher than this one, right here. Trust me."

Ren watched Mel circling her with a perplexed scowl, openly disturbed by the way the strange woman was leering at her, "Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

"Ren, this is Melanie Martin." Lydia introduced her with an impish expression on her pretty face, "She's in charge of the resort's delivery staff."

"Yeah. We call 'em runners." Mel elaborated with a dismissive shake of her head, still studying Ren as she orbited her. She looked back at Lydia, wrinkling her brow, "Sorry, luv. I'm not convinced. She doesn't look anything like what you described to me."

"I'm serious, Mel. This girl can handle it." Lydia assured her again, fixating on Ren with a confident gaze and a matching smirk, "I'm telling you, she has bigger balls than any man on this island. I guarantee that she can do it."

Mel abruptly stopped her pacing. Leaning against the desk and folding her arms across her chest, she raised a skeptical brow at Lydia, "Rubbish."

"Steel. Plated. Balls." Lydia countered.

Mel nodded slowly, turning back to Ren with her mouth set in a firm line, "You squeamish, then?"

"Excuse me?" Ren frowned at her, taken off guard by suddenly being included in the conversation.

"Are you squeamish?" Mel repeated with an exasperated sigh.

"Uh… No." Ren told her honestly, shrugging her shoulders.

"Did I mention that this is the waitress that stopped that protester the other night?" Lydia added slyly, her telling grin widening, "Took him down with one punch. Knocked him out cold."

"Broke his jaw in three places, actually." Ren added, straight-faced. She still had no idea what was going on, or why that was relevant. However, it seemed to peak Mel's interest.

"Really?" Her eyes swept over her again, biting at her upturned lips as she slowly brought her scrutinizing gaze up, locking her steady eyes on Ren's.

Ren swallowed anxiously, but did not look away. She kept her face an emotionless mask, calmly rising to meet Mel's challenge.

"Alright then, luv." Mel smiled fiendishly at her, "You're hired."

Ren grimaced, blinking back in confusion, "To do what exactly?"

Mel glanced at Lydia, surprised, "Wow. You weren't kidding when you said you hadn't told her anything."

Lydia shrugged as she stood up from her chair, straightening her short, black dress. "I didn't want to get her hopes up." She stated flatly, moving around the desk and holding out her hand to Ren genially, who accepted the gesture, also standing. "I'm sorry to see you go." Lydia told her earnestly, "And, I really do hope to see you around. So, good luck." She glanced apprehensively at Mel, before winking back at her, "You're going to need it."

And, then she left, leaving Ren alone with brightly colored, English Amazon.

"So then," Mel began, taking Lydia's seat behind the desk and folding her hands in front of her, "Tell me a bit about yourself. If we're going to work together, I'm going to need to know a tad more about you."

Ren sat back down, fixing her amber eyes on Mel coldly as she grasped her hands together tightly in her lap and crossed her ankles in a defiant motion.

She had never been one for surprises. Not even before the Weapon X program. And, she was exceedingly uncomfortable with people scheming behind her back, even if it was for her benefit. But, all that being considered, Lydia had just given her a chance to stay on the island. The upper management may not want her in the restaurant anymore, but her mentor had gone out of her way to find Ren another job. She could hardly refuse such a gift. At least not without hearing all the facts first.

"My name is Ren Howlett." She began evenly, not taking her eyes off the other woman, "I'm twenty six years old. I was born in Seattle, though I've been living in upstate New York for the past couple of years. What else do you want to know?"

"Let's start with that punch, shall we?" Mel asked, leaning forward with an inquisitive glint in her eyes, "I'm very curious to know where a tiny little thing like you learned to break someone's jaw?"

"And, why would you need to know something like that?" Ren narrowed her eyes, "What exactly is it that you want me to do?"

"You are a feisty one, aren't you? Hmm. Well… Fair enough, I suppose." Mel relented, moving to stand in front of her. She sat on the edge of the desk with her hands braced on either side of her. "I need someone to deliver supplies." She sighed with a weary look in her eyes, "Preferably, someone who doesn't scare so easily. The route goes into the island's restricted zone, which wouldn't be a problem normally, except that this particular route puts you in the close vicinity of some positively terrifying animals. Scariest things on this whole bloody island, if you ask me. There is just something about the way they look at you… Nearly pissed myself the first time I saw them." She shivered, before quickly continuing on as though nothing had happened, "And, frankly, the people who care for them are hardly a bundle of fun, either. Quite honestly… No one has lasted more than a month. I need someone tough enough to handle them."

She bent forward urgently, raising her brows in query, "So, you tell me, luv. Do you scare easily?"

Ren stared back at her, the corners of her mouth slowly upturning, "Not in the slightest."

"Good." Mel's grin returned as she straightened up and immediately began moving towards the exit. She stopped under the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at Ren, who was still in her chair, "You coming then?"

Ren hurriedly trailed after her, having to jog for a few steps to catch up with Mel's long legs as they turned back out into the hallway.

The hotel's sub-basement was unbelievable huge. It was a seemingly never-ending labyrinth of concrete passages, all lined with thick, industrial pipes and intense fluorescent lights that ran down the center of the ceiling. Their shoes echoed loudly off the hard stone floors and down the empty halls. The subterranean air was damp and cool; heavy from the tropical humidity, but chilly from the mixture of the central air and the dark, underground climate. The cold walls were bare, save for the random employee safety poster, and the occasional map marked with brightly colored arrows and yellow stars labeled "you are here".

Despite the maze's massive size and nearly identical halls, Mel knew exactly where she was going. She led Ren through the confusing channels with ease, and it was not long before they had reached their destination.

"Oh my God." Ren breathed, her jaw dropping open in earnest as she stepped over the threshold.

They entered into a massive underground warehouse. It was the size of a standard football field, with a high ceiling that stood about two stores above their heads, crossed with iron trusses, and spotted with hefty, round lights. The walls were all lined with boxes and selves full of everything from packs of bottled water, to spare engine parts. Vehicles of nearly every size were parked periodically throughout, their designated spaces marked in yellow paint on the concrete ground. There were dozens of people dashing back and forth between them, loading them with crates of supplies. And, across the busy floor, was a large, enclosed ramp.

"This way." Mel instructed her with a point of her index finger.

They walked along the right-hand wall with Ren too mesmerized by the graceful chaos of the dozens of delivery personnel, warehouse workers, and forklifts, to pay much attention to where she was going. She nearly collided with Mel when she stopped abruptly, pulling a key from her shorts' pocket and unlocking the office door with "Melanie Martin, Senior Deliveries Coordinator" etched on the glass window. Mel forced the door open, stepping inside and holding it open for Ren, who entered with her eyes still glued to the activity outside.

Mel shut the door sharply behind her, indicating the seat across from the desk with a jut of her pointed chin, "Well, have a seat then. We have a lot to get through."

Ren did as she was told, sitting down with her ankles crossed under her. She watched with a mix if apprehension and curiosity as Mel bounced energetically around the room, zipping from filing cabinet to filing cabinet as she pulled stacks of manila folders from the drawers and dropped them on her desk with every pass. After a few frantic moments of this, she took her seat opposite Ren. Taking a deep breath to steel herself before she dove into the folders, she pulled out page after page of very official looking documents and spun them around on the desktop to face her newest employee.

"Right then," Mel exhaled with a relieved smile, "Let's get started, shall we?" She pushed one of the thick piles of paper towards her, and then topped the stack with a black pen. "This," She explained, "is just a standard contract stating that you've been transferred to this department, and that you agree to the department's terms, as well as the terms of working for Masrani Global. By the way, you already signed that last one when you started at The Overlook. It also allows us to raise your pay, upgrade your benefits package, and your 401K."

Ren immediately looked up from the pages in her hands, having had been flipping though them throughout Mel's explanation, "Raise my pay?"

Mel's grin widened knowingly, "Thirty-five American dollars an hour."

Ren blinked, her mouth hanging open. That was fifteen dollars more an hour than she had been making at the restaurant, including tips. "Thirty-five an hour?" She questioned, dumfounded.

"I thought you might like that." Mel chuckled, leaning back in her seat, "But, full disclosure, that great pay comes with a major downside. You'll work from 9:00am to 6:00pm, six days a week, and you will be on-call at all times. You get a call, you have to go. Understand?"

Ren considered this, but nodded relatively quickly. She could think of worse ways to spend her time.

"Good." Mel continued, "Now, there will be a lot of down time during your day. You will be working for one site, and one site only. So, most likely, you will spend a good part of the day waiting around for them to give you something to do. There will be days where you do absolutely nothing. And, there will be days where you do not stop. You think you can handle that?"

"Yeah." Ren nodded, slashing her signature across the bottom of the last page and handing it back to Mel, "Sounds like a breeze."

"I'm glad you think that." Mel set the bundle aside, pushing the second pile towards her, "This is a non-liability agreement. It basically says that if you get hurt, you can't sue the park. Sign and date."

Ren signed the last page, but her signature was not as enthusiastic, "Why do I need a non-liability agreement? I'm just delivering stuff to one of the paddocks, right?"

"It's just a precaution," Mel informed her with a shrug, "You'll be around some of the carnivores. But, as long as you follow all the rules and listen to the keepers, you'll be just fine. Trust me. You've got nothing to worry about. We've never had an incident with any of the delivery staff."

"Didn't you just say that they were, 'scariest things on this whole bloody island'?" Ren raised a querying brow.

"Well, yeah." Mel agreed, "They are. But, like I said, we've never had an incident with any of the delivery staff. They're just a bit alarming the first time you see them, is all."

"And, are you going to tell me what 'they' are?" Ren pushed, still holding onto the contract in her hands.

Mel hesitated. She looked nervously down at her feet before glancing back up and saying with an almost grim tone, "Velociraptors."

Ren was unsure whether or not she knew what that was. She leaned back in her seat as she racked her brain, trying to remember if she had ever come across "Velociraptor" before in any of the books or online articles she had read. And, she had read a lot before coming here. She had wanted to know as much about dinosaurs as possible. And, understandably so. But, she had focused heavily on the species that the island was home to, and she did not recall a Velociraptor being one of them.

"I don't remember seeing that in the park's brochure?" She told her at last, clearly perplexed.

"You wouldn't have." Mel divulged to her seriously, folding her hands on her stomach as she twisted in her chair, "The raptor paddock is highly restricted. No park patrons or unauthorized personnel allowed."

Ren frowned, even more confused than before, "Um, well… I want to ask why?"

"The Velociraptors are the most intelligent and aggressive animals on the island." Mel mirrored her frown, shaking her head, "They are not on the parks attraction list because, well… Honestly, no one has figured out a safe way for the public to view them."

"So, they are dangerous?" Ren questioned again, her frown deepening.

"Yes." Mel admitted, "They're extremely dangerous. But, as long as you—"

"I don't care." Ren interrupted her, holding up a hand to stop her and relinquishing the signed contract with a roguish smirk, "I just wanted you to be honest with me. After all, what's life without a little danger?"

Mel stared at her, astonished. "Ah, well…" She stammered, excepting the documents, "Right then. Last bit." She shoved the last stack of documents towards her, "This is a standard nondisclosure agreement. Basically, keep your mouth shut about anything you see or you'll lose your job and the company will sue you for all you're worth."

Ren furrowed her brow, "Nondisclosure agreement? Why do I need that?"

"Because," Mel explained with a deep sigh, "the Integrated Behavioral Raptor Intelligence Study, or IBRIS, is an InGen research site, run by the InGen Security Division. All the research being done there is top secret." She leaned forward direly, "You need to understand that you will be the only Jurassic World employee on the premises. Everybody else out there belongs to InGen. If you're serious about taking this job, then that is something you really should remember."

Ren took the contract, looking down at the document in her hands with a disconcerted scowl. She was suddenly very uncomfortable. The idea of working for a private, multi-billion dollar company, on a top secret research site, just felt a little _too_ familiar to her. She glanced anxiously at the knuckles on her right hand and swallowed, before dropping her gaze down to the empty signature line.

"The InGen Security Division," She began softly, "They run the ACU, right?"

"Yes," Mel answered, frowning as though she could sense Ren's sudden hesitation, "They're also in charge of the Park Rangers and Resort Security. After all, InGen is one of the global leaders in cutting edge security systems, security training and protocols. They designed the parks entire security system, and literally wrote all of our safety manuals. In fact, there is not an inch of this island that they do not have access to. You know that, right?"

Ren bit at her lip as her stomach dropped. She took a deep breath in through her nostrils as her muscles tightened and her spine straightened painfully. Looking up at Mel over the top of the pages with a harsh glint in her eyes, she asked in a raspy voice, "Why would a paramilitary outfit be researching dinosaurs?"

Mel raised her eyebrows, taken off guard by the question, "I…don't know. But, I don't really think it matters. I mean, it's none of our business, ain't it?"

The corner of Ren's mouth twitched uneasily as her eyes dropped back down to the documents in her white knuckled grip. Her instincts were screaming at her that something about this felt very wrong. After all, she knew what paramilitary operations like that were capable of. She had lived it firsthand.

She thought back to the Professor's warning the day before she had left. She could still hear his questions clearly as they echoed around her brain. _"How much do you really know about this place?"_ He had asked her, _"What it actually is?"_ And, that was a good question, she now realized. What did she really know?

Clearly, it was not enough.

Faintly, she could even hear Logan in the back of her mind, ordering her to walk away. To put the contract down, get up and leave. But, as concerned as she was about this new information, she could not bring herself to do it. Not after she had made such a big deal about leaving. She could not go back after only a week. She could not prove them right. To the contrary, she needed to prove to them that she could do this. That she could survive on her own. She just had to.

She forced a smiled onto her lips. "You're right." She told Mel, signing the contract and handing it back to her new boss, "It's none of my business. I was just a little curious, is all."

Mel took the bundle of documents and slid them into an empty folder, "Curiosity is well and good, but it has its place. Just try to keep it in check while you're out there, yeah? Especially around Vic Hoskins."

"Who?" Ren asked, watching as Mel stood and placed her file in one on the cabinets' drawers.

"Vic Hoskins," She repeated, moving across the room to the closet's door, "He's InGen's Head of Security. I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough. He oversees the IBRIS project. Not a bad guy, really. He just doesn't take well to people sniffing around. You know the type, I'm sure. All secretive. Thinks the whole bloody world is out to steal company secrets. But, I suppose it must come with the job."

"Yeah…" Ren agreed with grimace, "I guess it must."

Mel opened the closet door and began rummaging through the boxes stacked behind it, "What shirt size are you, luv? You look like a small to me…"

"Medium." Ren corrected her, "I like my shirts a little baggy."

"Right. Medium it is then." She exclaimed, pulling a folded bundle free from the top box. She spun around, dropping seven identical, hunter green polo shirts on the desk in front of her, "Your new uniforms. Feel free to wear whatever trousers you like, though I prefer khakis myself. Cotton does tend to breathe better in the heat. Also, you might want to look into a pair of sturdy boots, yeah? Sneakers are all fine and good, but the terrain out there can get a tad rough."

Ren held one of the shirts up in front of her and smiled, her eyes fixing on the Jurassic World logo above the breast pocket, "Oh, I like this job better already."

"Yeah." Mel chuckled, shaking her head and gesturing to Ren's short skirt and blouse, "I'd go absolutely mental if I had to wear that get up every day."

"Tell me about it." Ren smirked back at her, "Honestly, if I didn't have to give it back, I'd burn the damn thing. Well, the shoes at least..."

"Oh, that reminds me…" Mel turned on her heel, heading back to the closet. She fumbled through the boxes again for a moment, before pulling out a black baseball cap with the same Jurassic World logo sewn onto the front. Reaching over the desk, she flopped it down on Ren's head, "Protect your eyes. The sun out there is a real bitch." She grinned at her and walked briskly towards the door, "Well, come on then. On to the next."

Ren pulled the hat down securely over her head and quickly picked up the pile of shirts before following her back out into the busy warehouse. They continued down the right side of the massive room, dodging around the workers, who gave them brisk nods and waves as they hurried about their jobs.

"Here we are." Mel shouted to her over the noise, striding hastily towards the white Jeep Wrangler with the blue stripes down its sides and the Jurassic World logo painted on its doors. The top had been removed, the axel lifted, and the standard tires had all been replaced with larger, off-road versions. She immediately climbed up into the driver's seat and pulled the keys down from the sun visor, tossing them to Ren with an excited smile, "She's all yours."

Ren caught the keys clumsily, almost dropping the pile of shirts cradled in her arms. "What?" She asked in shock, staring up at Mel with a quizzical expression.

"She's all yours." Mel reiterated, climbing down and folding her arms in front of her breasts, "So try to wreck her, yeah?"

"You're… giving me a car?" Ren stammered back is disbelief.

"Well, how else are you going to make deliveries?" Mel laughed loudly, "I'm not going to have you walk all over the bloody island!"

Ren stared at the Jeep with her mouth still agape, "I don't know what to say…"

"Just be careful with her." Mel told her pointedly, still smiling as she shook her head, "She's part of the original generation of park vehicles. I'm afraid the Mercedes we had for the route is out of commission at the moment. The moron I hired before you got a bit too close to a Pachy. The damn thing ripped the driver's door right off its hinges and sent the whole bloody vehicle rolling."

"That's cool," Ren informed her, climbing behind the wheel and setting the shirts down on the passenger seat, "I prefer American made, anyway."

She examined the Jeep's dashboard with a wide grin. Though it did have a manual transmission, it also had all the extra amenities that came with the model year, including a stereo and a small CB radio.

"You can drive a stick?" Mel asked her, genuinely concerned.

"Of course." Ren replied automatically, scrunching her face as though she had been insulted by the question.

"Good." Mel nodded in approval, patting the Jeep's hood in satisfaction, "Then, I'll see you back here tomorrow morning, bright and early. 8:00am, sharp. Don't be late."

* * *

Ren arrived back at her apartment much earlier than she had expected.

The sun was low on the horizon, but it had not yet fully set when she pulled into the housing complex's back parking lot, guiding her new Jeep under one of the empty carports and parking. Pulling the key from the ignition, she spun the key ring on her index finger before gathering the stack of shirts and leisurely moving across the hot asphalt to the complex's entrance gate. The small white fence that surrounded Building B was overgrown with decorative ivy and brilliant, royal blue flowers that released a light, pleasant sent as she passed, and she felt the tension of the past few hours finally start to melt off of her in the humid twilight.

She continued on and up the stairwell to the second floor balcony, passing Daisy's empty apartment and rounding the corner. As she approached her assigned domicile, she was mildly surprised to find a brown package leaning up against the apartment's heavy door. She struggled to pick it up with the bundle already in her arms, while also trying to locate her keys and fit them in the lock. The cardboard box was about a foot and a half tall by a foot wide, and was relatively heavy for its size, but she finally managed to scoop it up, placing it on top of her uniforms, and unlocked the door.

The central air hit her with an icy blast as she stepped inside and shut the door behind with a kick of her heel. She immediately dropped the awkward load in her arms on the kitchen table, the items scattering in all directions at once. The package hit the tabletop with a hefty thud, and she promptly spun it around so she could read the postage label. The return address read "1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, NY".

She had been gone a little over a week, and she was already getting care packages from home. Whoever had sent this must have put it in the mail right after she had left.

Ren swiftly extended a single claw from the knuckles on her right hand, ignoring the sharp pain as the long blade ripped through her skin, and ran it carefully down the side of the box before sheathing it back into her forearm. She pulled the top off of the package gingerly, and was momentarily taken aback by what she found inside.

Books.

There were several, relatively thick, books inside the small box. All had pristine, glossy covers emblazoned with bold, eye catching fonts. Taking her time, she slowly began unpacking them one by one, quickly realizing that they were all written by the same two authors.

The first of the texts she picked up was the thinnest of the bunch. It had a deep red cover with bright blue lettering that proclaimed it " _Dinosaur Detectives_ by Dr. Alan Grant and Michael Brooks. Forward by Sir Richard Attenborough." The front was marked with a series of white dinosaur footprints that marched diagonally across the dustcover, with the one in the center enlarged by the outline of a blue magnifying glass. And, above that in smaller, white print, the book's tagline read, "The quest that uncovered the secrets of the extinct dinosaurs."

Ren flipped through the pages, perusing the many detailed illustrations inside before she closed the book and turned it over in her hands. The endorsement from someone named Martin Kline at Columbia University declared boldly over a photograph of the author that, "Whether you like dinosaurs or not, this book will open your eyes to the truly fascinating world of paleontology. A refreshingly bright and interesting overview of these so-called dinosaur detectives… Loads of good stuff!"

Her gaze dropped to the photo of Dr. Grant, which was clearly much older than the image she had seen on the news the other night. Her first thought as she looked at it was that Alan Grant had been very handsome in his youth. Not that he was bad looking for a man his age, now. But, the younger Grant's distinguished facial features, intelligent smirk, and beautiful blues eyes peered up at her from under the wide brim of his tan fedora as he crouched in the dirt with what appeared to be a fossilized claw in his hands, and Ren had always had a thing for men in hats. She shook her head as she reprimanded herself for the thought, setting the book aside before picking up the next.

 _Mass Extinction: A Study in Chaos Theory_ by Dr. Ian Malcolm was twice as thick as _Dinosaurs Detectives._ The black cover and white font, combined with the backdrop of a mushrooming explosion, made for a striking contrast that immediately captured the reader's attention. There was no other lettering on the cover. In fact, the back of the dustjacket was completely consumed by a black and white headshot of Dr. Malcom. Like the photograph of Dr. Grant on the pervious book, the image of Ian Malcolm was much younger here than the one she had seen on the news. And, also like Dr. Grant, she found Dr. Malcom to be a very good looking man. And, though the image itself was a bit too Hollywood for her taste, Ren could not help but admire the dark locks of hair and the sculpted cheek bones behind the sunglasses.

However, it was not until she read the next two titles that she began to understand exactly why these books had been sent to her.

 _Jurassic Park: The Mad Science Behind the Isla Nublar Incident_ by Dr. Alan Grant, and _God Creates Dinosaurs_ by Dr. Ian Malcolm were both a good hundred pages longer than their predecessors, respectively. She examined each of the books with an exasperated sigh, turning them in her hands with an irritated glower.

Again, she found the two authors pictured on the back covers, but she could not help but notice that there was something different about the photographs. She held the books up to the light, side by side, and frowned as she compared the two. The shots were not stylized like they had been on the pervious volumes. There were no dramatic poses or colorful filters. Both men look straight at the camera, unsmilingly. Their expressions looked almost pained, as though they carried an immense weight within them, pulling heavily on their thoughts. And, it showed in their eyes. They looked tired. Not physically tired, but mentally. They were they eyes of men who had seen things that could not be un-see, and they carried it with them.

Ren dropped the books back onto the table, angry about how disturbed she now felt. Clearly, the parcel had had the desired effect.

She dug around in the box blindly, still glaring down at the haunted faces on the table. Ignoring the final book in the package, she pulled a folded piece of paper from underneath it and scowled at the familiar, untidy scrawl. She growled deep in her throat as her eyes darted down the short, handwritten note.

"The Professor thought you might find these interesting." Logan had written, "So study up, Kid. I'll be seeing you soon."

The sound that escaped her was a strange mix of an animalistic snarl and a very human grunt of displeasure. Anger ripped through her as she waded the note up into a tight ball and threw it back into the box, before fumbling around in her belongings for her cell phone. In an instant, she had Logan's number selected from her contacts list and dialed.

"This is Logan," His voicemail greeted her glumly, "I'm either not here, or I don't want to talk to you. You know what to do." _Beep._

" _Study up, Kid_?" Ren mocked his usual antisocial tone as she hissed into her phone, " _I'll be seeing you soon_? Really _?_ Tell me, what's the point of this, huh? What's the point of sending me these books? You and the Professor trying to scare me off? You really think a few old horror stories from a couple of crackpot academics would send me running back to the school?" She snorted bitterly, "This passive-aggressive bullshit is not going to fly, Logan!" Holding the mouth piece away from her face, she practically shouted into it, "I'm staying!"

She hung up.

* * *

Nowhere was particularly crowded tonight.

It was just passed midnight when Ren made her way through the swinging doors and into the bar. Instantly, she was overtaken by the loud music, dozens of shrill voices, and the potent scents of alcohol, greasy foods, and human sweat. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she immediately made her way to the long, oak bar in search of something to dull her senses. Sliding between two of the high stools, she leaned leisurely against the copper top and signaled the bartender that she was ready to order.

Within seconds she had an ice cold Corona in front of her with a fresh lime wedge sticking out the top. She enjoyed the way the Christmas lights strung up behind the bar glittered though the amber liquid in the bottle. She pushed the lime all the way inside, watching serenely as the bubbles caused the brilliantly colored lights to swirl.

It had been an unbelievably long and taxing day, and though her mutation stopped her from feeling the effects of alcohol, there was something comforting in the taste of a cold beer. She relished her first few refreshing sips with a small smile, letting the flavor wash the day away.

"Hey there, girl." A vaguely familiar, arrogant voice purred in her right ear. Ren sniffed, her nostrils filling with stench of Axe body spray and vodka. She glanced at Clive Thompson out of the corner of her eye, refusing to give him the satisfaction of turning her head as she took another swig of her beer. "Guess what?" He continued, leaning on the bar next to her with a conceited grin on his clean shaven face, "It's your lucky day. Out of all the girls here, I picked you to talk to."

"Oh, I'd hardly call that lucky." She scowled at him, openly annoyed by his presence. "Look man," She began with an aggravated sigh, "I've had a pretty stressful day, and I'm really not in the mood…"

"Well," He leaned in even closer, his demeanor becoming more imposing, "I'd be happy to help you out with a vigorous round of stress relief. I promise you won't be disappointed."

Ren straightened, momentarily stunned by his blatant forwardness. She picked her beer up off the bar and took a step away from him. "Hard pass." She growled, her amber eyes narrowing dangerously, "Besides, I'm waiting for some people."

"Really?" His eyes darkened, unconvinced.

There was a sudden edge in his voice that made the hair on Ren's neck stand on end.

"Yeah." She asserted, immediately turning to leave, "Really."

"Uppity bitch." He hissed at her back.

Ren ignored him as she continued towards the back of the bar. She found an empty table on the wall, next to the jukebox, and collapsed into one of the chairs with her back facing the shadowy corner. Taking a deep breath through her mouth, she sat her beer down gently. Her skin was still crawling as she ran her hands up her bare arms and she shivered, despite the tropical heat.

"Escape (The Pina Colada Song)" was playing softly in the background. Ren tried to focus on the positive, up-beat tempo and Rupert Holmes' optimistic voice as he sang the second chorus. She rotated her neck in an attempt to loosen her tight shoulder muscles and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. She slowly twisted the longneck bottle between her fingers, a ring of condensation forming on the lacquered tabletop.

The exceedingly familiar smells of lavender shampoo, vanilla moisturizer, and hair gel wafted under her nose and she opened her eyes. Sitting forward again, she straightened up in her seat as she watched Daisy and Oliver enter through the swinging doors. They immediately began scanning the crowd, searching for her. Ren raised her hand to get their attention and waved. After only a few seconds, Oliver caught sight of her and quickly pulled Daisy in her direction.

Ren was mildly surprised to see that they had not taken the time to change out of their work clothes. She watched as they made their way through the mass of crowded tables, Daisy in her tight skirt and heels, and Oliver in his stained chef's coat. They both had a tired gait to their step, having been on their feet all night and most of the day. But, what was most apparent was unusually concerned looks on their faces as they fell heavily into the seats across from her.

"Hey," Oliver exhaled, "Daisy told me what happened with Lydia—"

"We've been worried all day!" Daisy hurriedly interrupted him, "You never came back!"

Ren took another swig of her beer, studying their worried expressions coolly as she took the time to choose her words. Looking across the table at the two of them, both frantic on her behalf, she found that she desperately wished that she could get drunk. But, in the end, she decided that it was best not to beat around the bush.

"So," Oliver pushed, scooting forward in his seat, "What the hell happened?"

Ren placed her beer back on the table and took a deep breath, "I got fired."

"WHAT?" The two exclaimed in unison, their raised tones earning curious glances from the others seated around them.

"Yeah. Lydia fired me." Ren told them bluntly.

"Why?" Daisy asked in disbelief.

"Because of what happened the other night." She told her evenly, "Apparently, I put on too big of a show, and Ms. Dearing didn't like it."

"That's such horseshit!" Oliver snapped angrily, "There has to be something—!"

"Doesn't matter." Ren quickly stopped him, holding up a calming hand to quell his sudden rage, "I already have another job."

"What?" He furrowed his brow, both surprised and confused, "How?"

"Lydia fired me," Ren sat back in her seat, trying in vain to relax, "But, she also set me up with a job in another department. Guess she didn't think it was fair either."

There was a moment of stunned silence as Daisy and Oliver considered this news with doubting frowns.

"So…" Oliver began hesitantly, "What are you going to be doing now?"

"Well," Ren answered him cautiously, "I'm going to be delivering supplies to one of the animal paddocks. Apparently, InGen has a research site on the island, and they haven't had good luck keeping the position filled. So, they were pretty desperate for someone to take it."

"That doesn't seem like a big selling point to me." Daisy frowned, her bottom lip sticking out in a troubled pout.

Ren shrugged, "Maybe not. But, beggars can't be choosers, right? Besides, the job came with a hell of a pay raise, and they gave me a company Jeep."

"They gave you a Jeep?" Oliver stared at her, bewildered.

"Yeah." She acknowledged, "But, more importantly, I get to stay on the island."

"But," Daisy questioned, her pout growing, "Aren't you curious why nobody wants the job? Aren't you… I don't know? Worried?"

Ren swept her eyes over her friends calmly, silently reconsidering everything that Mel had told her earlier as she downed the last of her beer. She thought about InGen and the InGen Security Division, and what working for them might entail. Logically, she knew her choice would have consequences, either way. So, she considered what she knew about the multi-billion dollar corporation, and what she knew about Masrani Global as a whole. She thought about what she knew about Simon Masrani himself, and about the protesters outside his many company locations in the United States and abroad. And, lastly, she thought about the books lying on her kitchen table, and about their authors.

Glancing down at the knuckles on her right hand, she fiddled with the empty bottle on the table before locking her eyes on the two of them resolutely. She shrugged her shoulders and smirked, "I can handle it."

* * *

 **Reviews are always welcome.**


	9. Chapter 7

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 ***Re-edited 6/24/2018**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

"Welcome to IBRIS." Mel addressed her candidly as she stepped down from the passenger's seat with an anxious grin.

Ren turned the Jeep's engine off and pulled the keys from the ignition, leaning back in the driver's seat stoically. She readjusted the rounded bill of her Jurassic World baseball cap as she studied the massive compound through the dirty windshield. Tugging gently at the thick bunching of black curls that she had pulled through the hat's band, she pulled her ponytail off of her hot neck and over her green polo shirt's folded collar. The noontime sun beat down on her mercilessly, scorching her bare arms and legs. The humidity was particularly oppressive today, causing sweat to bead at the base of her scalp and her tan skin to glisten with perspiration as she pushed the caramel-colored lenses of her aviator sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose.

She had not been sure what she had been expecting, but the Integrated Behavioral Raptor Intelligence Study was unlike anything she had seen on Isla Nublar, thus far.

The research site was perched on a sheer cliff on the east side of the island, overlooking the seemingly endless Pacific ocean. The roar of the tide could be heard repeatedly pounding into the rocks beneath them, and the air was tainted with the taste of salt. Only a thin row of palm trees and ferns separated the complex from the hundred foot drop into the sea.

Her shaded eyes swept over the two large, mobile office trailers standing along the tree line. Despite their portable nature, they seemed to have become a permanent part of the landscape, with a small satellite dish atop the roof of one, and bulky air-conditioning units hanging out of the back windows. They stood solidly between two slightly rusted shipping containers, whose contents were concealed behind heavy latched doors. A few yards away stood a large storage port with high, open walls. It's raised concrete floor was surrounded by a metal railing, and flanked by two more somewhat battered containers. The exposed building was filled with various plastic bins and rows of industrial shelving. And, everything was covered in a fine layer of sand.

There were multiple vehicles parked at random around the area. She counted three Park registered utility vehicles, and a dozen top-of-the-line ATVs. Ren's eyes lingered on the Jurassic World logo on the Mercedes' doors, momentarily perplexed. But, she rationalized quickly that InGen would not want to openly advertise their presence on the island. After all, the public thought of Isla Nublar as a tourist attraction, not a science lab.

Her gaze shifted from the SUVs, with her eyes instantly locking on the motorcycle that was nearly hidden in the furthest trailer's shadow. Intrigued, her pupils dilated behind her glasses, her mutation drastically sharpening her field of vision as her focus zoomed in on the bike. She could see every detail of the Triumph, delighting in the army-green matte paint, the blacked-out motor, and the thick tread of the off-road tires. It was a beautiful machine. Much nicer than her her old Sportster back in New York.

From the west and north, they were completely surrounded by dense jungle, with the winding dirt road that they had taken coming out of the southwest at a steep incline. Her enhanced eyes swept along the canopy and she frowned, furrowing her brow.

There was no movement in the branches.

Ren swung the driver's side door open and hopped down from the seat, her sneakers landing heavily in the sand. She closed the door behind her sharply, taking a few cautious steps forward as she strained her sensitive ears for signs of life. She could hear a variety of male voices. She heard clumsy foot falls, both on metal and on the loose earth. And, there was the faint rumble of a generator in the distance. But, there were no birds singing, nor were there animals of any kind surrounding the complex. The trees around them were all silent, without even insects chirping.

She strained her ears until they began to ring from the effort, desperate to find anything living in the foliage. The silence felt unnatural, and to say it was unnerving to her was an understatement. There was only one reason she could think of as to why the wildlife would have abandoned the area.

And, that was when she heard it. A low, guttural growl that sent an intense chill shooting up her spine.

Ren's head whipped around in an instant, turning her full attention to the immense concrete and steel arena at the center of the site. She moved slowly around the Jeep's hood, standing in front of the vehicle rigidly as she stared up at the massive enclosure with her heart pounding uncontrollably in her chest. That sound was unlike anything she had ever heard, and every hair on her body was standing on end.

"That's the Raptor Research Arena." Mel informed her evenly, striding up next to her, "Are you sure you're ready for this, luv?"

Ren sniffed the air, her nostrils filling with the scent of something that made her insides quiver.

The Raptor Research Arena was a monstrously huge, octagonal structure with concrete walls that were over two stories high and dressed in sheets of tarnished metal. Its looming presence was only made more intimidating by the massive, solid steel gate facing them, reinforced with enormous braces on either side. A steep stairway ran up the adjacent wall, going all the way to the top, where the walkway was lined with high safety railing and a series of lamps that were currently off. Sticking out of the far side was a sizeable exterior cage, which was nearly as tall as the wall it was attached to, and was constructed entirely of thick, black metal beams. A second staircase wound its way around it and over what appeared to be a series of stable-like structures that were attached to the cages' far wall.

"Yeah," Ren finally answered her, turning to look at Mel for the first time since they had arrived. She forced a too-wide grin onto her face, "Yeah. I'm good. Let's do this."

She followed Mel around to back of the Jeep, helping her to pull the small table from the vehicle, bring it back around, and then set it up in front of the dusty headlights. Ren pressed the legs down into the sand to steady it as Mel returned to the trunk for the series of boxes awaiting them. She quickly followed suit, trailing after the Senior Deliveries Coordinator, and lifting the heavy cooler full of ice and bottled water with ease. She then discarded it on the ground beside the table, bending over to open the lid while Mel dropped the cardboard box full of lunch orders onto the plastic top.

"Ah! Thank God!" A man suddenly exclaimed from across the sandy pitch, his voice thick with a French accent, "I'm starving!"

Ren looked up from the cooler at her feet, immediately straightening as the new comer came closer. He was easily over six foot, with a lanky build and a narrow waist. His shoulders were not overly broad, though his arms and chest were clearly well-muscled. He was tall and lean, built more for agility and speed, rather than overt strength.

"Hello." He greeted her welcomingly as he approached. His lips split into a wide, slightly surprised smile, with his teeth glaringly white against his ebony skin.

She sniffed the air guardedly, her hands instinctively balling into fists at her sides, but the instant his scent reached her, Ren felt herself unclench. He had a rich, earthy smell. It was untainted, and distinctly reminded her of the woods after a heavy rainstorm, when the hot sun had come out and hit the remaining water on the leaves.

"Hi." She replied with a small, uncertain smile of her own.

"Ren," Mel began her introduction, indicating the man discreetly as he slowly came to a stop in front of the table, "This is Barry Salomon. He's the caretaker here. Which means he's basically the one that makes sure things run smoothly."

Ren nodded to him politely, her nerves getting the better of her and making her smile falter, "Good to meet you."

"Barry," Mel hurriedly continued, "This is Ren Howlett. She's your new deliveries runner."

Now, it was Barry's smile that faltered. His dark eyes darted from Mel, to Ren, and then back again, before he released an uneasy laugh and shook his head, "Well, it's going to be an interesting day."

Mel frowned at him, pulling a Styrofoam container from the cardboard box and practically shoving it into his hands before snapping sharply, "Do you mind ringing the dinner bell for us, luv?"

Barry nodded, still smirking at the two of them as he popped the container open and stuffed a pickle wedge into his mouth.

Ren watched as he circled around the front of the Jeep, before hissing urgently to Mel, "What did he mean by that?"

"Nothing." She answered flatly, though she did not sound at all convincing, "Nothing at all. He's just being overly dramatic."

Barry stopped next to the driver's side door. Reaching in, he quickly tapped the horn on the steering wheel. Two loud honks blasted through the compound, and immediately Ren heard a shift in the foot traffic as the workers on the site stopped what they had been doing and began to slowly make their way to collect their lunches.

Next to her, Mel began digging through the white containers, setting a majority of them out onto the tabletop in neat rows, with the order tickets attached and in plain view. She paused suddenly, anxiously eyeing the ticket hanging from the box in her hand, before glancing sideways at Ren. She exhaled and smiled stiffly, turning and offering her the container, "Here. Take this."

Taking the small box in both hands and sniffing it, Ren's nose instantly filled with the stinging heat of pickled jalapeños and the sweetness of corn. It smelled undeniably delicious, and her stomach gave an involuntary growl as her eyes dropped to the short receipt stuck to the top of the Styrofoam with a golden Hilton sticker. "Owen Grady?" She questioned softly, looking back up at Mel with a raised eyebrow.

"Owen is…well... How should I put this? Owen is _Owen_." Mel struggled to explain, not looking at her as she busied herself with the plastic silverware, "But, he's also a bit of a workaholic. Sometimes he forgets to pick up his order. So… Why don't you…ah… Why don't you to take it to him? Yeah?"

Ren continue to stare at her skeptically, sensing that she was not being completely honest with her, "Okay?"

Mel sighed, setting the forks in her hand down and turning to look at her directly for the first time. "Look," She said quickly, forcing another smile, "Just… Find Owen. Give him his tacos. And then, come straight back here to me. Okay?"

Ren frowned at her, plainly able to see that Mel was not telling her everything. "Alright." She finally relented, "How do I find him?"

"Start with his office." Mel told her, turning and continuing to set out the plastic-ware, "It's in Trailer 2. Name is on the door. Can't miss it."

Ren continued to watch her skeptically for a few more moments before turning and making her way passed the storage port. She did her best to ignore the sets of curious eyes that followed her as the small mass of men converged around the table. Most of them, she noticed, were members of the ACU, dressed gray uniforms made of expensive Vertex Kryptek gear. Her stomach knotted up as she passed them, eyeing the taser-rifles in their grips warily.

"Well," She scolded herself as she picked up her pace, hurrying to put more space between them and her, "This was a brilliant idea, Ren. What the hell did you just go and get yourself mixed up in?"

She let out a frustrated huff, mentally berating herself for her own stubbornness as she continued towards the trailers, when suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Her mind instantly went blank as a breeze came out of the east, bringing with it a tantalizing odor that made every hair on her body stand on end, and for a very different reason.

She recognized it instantly, her thoughts drifting back to her first night on the island and the enticing scent trail she had followed from Nowhere, out to the road. Her heart rate immediately sky-rocketed, thumping in her chest so loudly that she was sure everyone on the site could hear it. The scent continued to waft towards her on the wind, gently tangling its way into her hair. It was strong. So much stronger than it had been that night when she had first come across it. It caused her to unexpectedly tense, instinctually reacting to it as the mixture of Ivory soap, engine grease, and that mysterious something else caressed her burning skin.

She inhaled sharply, taken by surprise as the scent plunged through her nostrils and teased at her brain. No matter how hard she tried, she still could not describe it, or the hold that it seemed to have over her.

It took what seemed like minutes, but she slowly came back to her senses. Her skin crawled as she felt sets of inquisitive eyes on her and she swallowed thickly, forcing herself to move on without looking back.

She climbed the aluminum steps to Trailer 2 carefully, with the Styrofoam container still gripped tightly in her hands. The closer she got to the door, the stronger the delicious scent seemed to become, and Ren found it hard to think straight. She took another deep breath, this time through her mouth, in an attempt to steady herself as she looked up at the name printed on the Plexiglas window: Owen Grady. Project Manager.

"Right." Ren breathed quietly, raising her hand and knocking.

There was no immediate answer. She squirmed on her toes, her anxiety mounting as she waited there with the alluring smell swirling in the air and penetrating every pore of her skin. She growled impatiently, the noise coming involuntarily from the back of her throat as she knocked again, this time slightly harder. Still, there was no response.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering what she should do. Part of her wanted to turn around and go back to Mel at the deliveries table. But, she knew that could not be correct answer. Mel had told her to find Owen Grady. What would it look like if she returned after only a few moments with the tacos still in hand? Surly, that would be enough for Mel to question her decision to hire her. After all, Mel had only hired her because Lydia had assured her that Ren was tough. That she was fearless. Giving up so easily would most definitely point to the contrary, and then where would Ren be? Probably jobless, and on her way back to Westchester.

She knocked a third time, this time forcefully, causing the pane in the door to shake with the impacts. Again, there was no answer.

Glancing around guardedly, she slowly dropped her hand to the doorknob and twisted. She pushed the door open a few inches, poking her head inside cautiously as the air conditioning slapped into her face, making her sinus scream in protest as she looked around. "Hello?" She called softly, shoving the door the rest of the way open and stepping inside, "Anybody here?"

Silence.

Ren glanced around the empty trailer as her curiosity got the better of her. To her left was a tidy office space, cordoned off by a plain woodened desk that was topped with a large computer monitor, a series of neatly stacked Manilla folders, and a simple nameplate with "Owen Grady" spelled out in block letters. The matching office chair seemed worn, like it had been overused, with a small patch of duct tape on the backrest. And, the walls around it were all covered by greenish-gray filing cabinets, four drawers tall.

Everything seemed to have its place, and nothing was out of place.

Turning to her left, her gaze immediately landed on the hefty rifle mounted high on the far wall, and her heart bottomed out into her stomach. She swallowed thickly, her mind suddenly buzzing loudly with information that she had not known she possessed. " _Marlin Model 1895SBL_ ," the invading voice recited almost robotically, its monotone echoing around her Adamantium coated skull with a sickening amount of reverb, " _Lever-action._ _45-70 Government cartridge. Leopold Optics FX-II Scout IER scope. Accurate."_

She shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the other voice. The unwanted one that seemed to rear its horrific head at the most inconvenient times, forcing her to remember what she was now. The Professor insisted that she was still the same person she had been before Weapon X, but Ren remained unconvinced. She knew that that voice did not come from her, yet it had somehow become a permanent part of her. Her old self might still exist deep down, but X5-Whiskey was as much a part of her now as Rachel Garner. Maybe even more so.

Rubbing at her temple uncomfortably, she took a step closer. Her gut was still writhing as her heightened eyes swept over the stainless-steel finished barrel with the ghost-ring sight and the silver plated scope, down to the gray, laminated hardwood stock with the fluted comb and recoil pad. _"Hunting rifle."_ The voice droned on, " _The .45-70 Government Cartridge is a preferred round for short range. Designed for large game._ "

"Large game…" She muttered under her breath tentatively, her upper lip twitching.

Her eyes dropped down to the futon lined under the gun. It seemed to be the only thing in the room that was at all unkempt. One of its pillows had been wadded into a ball, while the other was lying on the floor, and there was a tangle of sheets at the other end that were half spilling out over the mini-fridge hidden in the corner. A square folding table was set up to the left, flanked by two aluminum chairs on either side. And, there was black duffle bag on the floor to her right, with a shirt sleeve sticking out of its top, and set next to a pair of dusty work boots.

"Workaholic seems accurate." She observed quietly, looking down at the lunch container in her hands and sighing, making the mistake of taking another nose full of air. The mysterious scent suddenly clouded her thoughts and, in an instant, had succeeded in drowning out her other self. A feat that the world's most powerful telepath had yet to accomplish.

The smell had been strong outside, but in here the odor hung in the air in a thick haze, and Ren found herself glued to the spot with her body completely paralyzed by the aroma. She was confused. And, if she was honest with herself, she was frightened. Never in her life, former or otherwise, had she ever come across anything like this. She could not explain it, nor did she understand it, and she found herself desperately scrambling to think up a possible source, only to come up blank.

Forcing her heavy legs to move, she finally managed to trudge back out into the sun, securing the trailer's door behind her with a relieved huff. The open air seemed to help to clear her mind as she clambered down the steps and back onto the sand. Readjusting her sunglasses as she went, she scanned the site again, searching for any signs of the target. Not that she had any clue who she was even looking for.

The group around Mel and the table had grown, with more men still straggling in from all corners of the complex. Ren eyed them rigidly for a moment, before her gaze quickly locked onto the two nearest her, leisurely making their way across the pitch.

The first was in his late thirties by the looks of it, though substantially younger by comparison to his companion, who appeared to be in his early sixties. He was tall, just under six feet, with a barreled chest and well-toned arms, which had been left bear by his sleeveless khaki shirt. His weathered face was obscured by a bushy brown beard, and his curly hair fell to just above his broad shoulders. A dark brown fedora rested atop his head, decorated with a series of metallic discs around the bond.

His elderly friend was slightly frumpy by comparison. He was overweight, with a large potbelly, and was balding with whisks of white hair and a thin beard over his double chin. His round spectacles gleamed in the tropical sun, which had turned his pale cheeks a rosy-red. And, he had sweat through the gray t-shirt under his baggy vest.

She took a deep breath through her mouth before rushing forward. "Excuse me!" She called to them, careful not to sound overly aggressive as she jogged over.

Both men stopped at once, dropping their conversation and turning around to face her.

"Yes?" The elder gentlemen replied, automatically readjusting his glasses as she came closer. His voice held a English accent, one more educated than Mel's.

Ren came to a stop in front of them, the Styrofoam container resting against her abdomen with reservation. "Sorry to bother you," She began sheepishly, "But, I'm looking for Owen Grady?"

The men shared a curious look between them, before the younger one pointed back towards the massive arena. "Yeah," He told her with an Aussie brogue, "He should be back that way."

She nodded curtly, her feet already backing in the direction he had indicated, "Thanks."

She had only managed to cover about ten feet when the Aussie called back out to her. "Oy!" He boomed good-naturedly, "You are knew deliveries runner, then?"

Ren turned, still walking backwards, and nodded, "Guess so."

He laughed, his tan skin crinkling around his almond eyes as he turned back to the Englishman, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, "This day just gets better and better."

Ren scowled at him as the pair turned their backs on her, wondering exactly what the Aussie had meant. That was the second comment like that she had heard since she had arrived, and Mel was clearly not telling her something as well. She sighed again, growing more and more frustrated. She hated being kept in the dark. It was too close to being lied to.

She continued to mull it over as she passed the large exterior cage, slowing her steps and glancing inward inquisitively as she did. The massive space behind the bars was lined by a metal wall to the right, which appeared to be connected to the four stables under the stairs. There were reinforced ports built into it, each connected to what looked like a muzzle made of solid steel, and controlled on both top and bottom by a hydraulic system. Next to each of these openings was an aluminum stool, over which hung a set of large leather cuffs on the wall.

The back of the exterior cage was open to the arena itself, cordoned off by a wall of more carbon black bars, and an electronic door that rose up on a vertical track. Ren could see open space surrounded by abundant, lush vegetation inside as she passed, but there was no movement. No signed of the inhabitants. Through, she could certainly smell them, and their scent was terrifying.

She sniffed the air caustiously, her racing heart immediately skipping a beat. Again, she abruptly came to a halt. The gut-wrenching predatory odor twisted in the air around her, interweaving with the enticing, mysterious other's aroma that had suddenly reappeared. But, this time was different. This time, the scent was not just saturated around the area.

This time, the scent was fresh.

She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, unable to stop herself from greedily breathing it in. The fear inducing scent of the animals caused her chest to tighten, and her blood to go cold in the heat. But, when it mixed with the tantalizingly sweet, anonymous smell, her insides instantly melted. Her head was spinning, overwhelmed by the potent combination, and Ren found herself go week in the knees for the first time in her life.

"What the f—?" She gasped, her breath having been snatched from her lungs. Absentmindedly transferring the Styrofoam container to one hand, she hunched over, supporting her weight with the other on her knee. She swallowed the butterflies fluttering up her esophagus, and scowled, "What is this?"

She made herself straightened up, throwing her shoulders back resolutely as she purposefully inhaled the aroma again. It was so strong now that she could almost see the scent trail as it dangled in the air in front of her. It was like a ribbon of soft blue light, which danced its way up the stairwell like a subtle aurora. And, in an instant, Ren had made up her mind. She squared her jaw, and headed for the metal staircase.

Her steps sounded heavily as she climbed, the metal on her bones making all the difference with every rung that she scaled. A six-foot wide walkway lined the top of the octagonal arena on all sides, with a raised platform that extended out over the paddock in a massive "X". Ren stepped cautiously out onto the footbridge, her eyes scanning the open area vigilantly.

Nothing.

The sent trail had lead to nothing. There was no one up there with her. She groaned softly, disheartened. She was not sure why she felt so disappointed, because she had not been sure what she had been expecting. Answers, maybe? Validation that this was not just all in her head?

Her shoulders sagged as she glanced down at the boxed lunch. It was getting cold.

She turned around, about to head back down the stairwell, when a soft clicking sound reached her sensitive ears. She stopped immediately, the series of clicks getting louder. Instantly captivated by the strange sound, Ren turned back and carefully approached the tall railing. Holding her breath as she reached the edge of the catwalk, she looked down.

"Oh my God…" She breathed out, her hand visibly shaking as she reached up and slowly pulled off her sunglasses.

The Velociraptor was over six feet tall, fifteen feet long, and was standing erect on its two powerful hind legs. Its forearms were curled up against its chest as it looked up at her curiously. Its hide had a dark grayish-blue hue, and it looked slightly scalier than the herbivores she had seen, with a white and metallic cerulean streak racing down from its eye-orbit to the tip of its long tail. It tilted its massive head to the side as its large golden eyes locked on her, snapping its fierce jaws with a series of quiet chirps.

Ren could not believe what she was seeing. Her heart fluttered uncontrollably, and she felt a foolish grin suddenly split across her face. "Oh my God…" She gasped again, unable to say anything else. She felt the corners of her eyes begin to sting threateningly as her body filled with a whirlwind of unnamed emotions.

The raptor twisted its head the other way, straightening up on its back legs and opening its snout, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth as it hissed, followed quickly by another series of chirps and clicks.

Ren's hand wrapped around the railing tightly, her knuckles almost white as she leaned over, transfixed. "Oh my God," She suddenly realized, stunned as she continued to listen to the animal's musical tones, "You're… talking?"

"Hey!"

She startled, instantly jumping back from the railing and clutching the container to her chest as she spun towards the source of the shout.

A man was rushing towards her from across the elevated platform. Over six feet tall, he seemed to be built of solid muscle from what Ren could tell. His footfalls were heavy on the metal grate, with his sculpted arms swinging briskly at his sides, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She stared at him as he dropped down from the platform and onto the walkway, clanking to a halt in front of her with his large hands immediately landing on either side of his thick, leather belt. Discreetly slipping her aviators back on, Ren raised her gaze to meet his, only to find herself suddenly mute.

He had an extremely handsome face, with high cheekbones and a strong, chiseled jaw that was covered in a few days growth of reddish-brown stubble. She guessed him in to be in his mid-thirties. Sweat was beading around his tanned temples, and there were faint creases under his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. His short russet hair was slightly askew, and streaked with natural red highlights from the Central American sun. And, his striking, cobalt eyes were currently locked coldly on her as he took an imposing step forward, grinding his teeth angrily behind his pressed lips and raising an irritated brow.

"I…" Ren faltered, still staring up at him dumbly. He had a good ten inches on her, and his shoulders were twice as wide.

He leaned forward expectantly, his dark leather vest falling open as the arch of his perfect brow increased sharply.

She was at a loss for words, which was another first for her. "Well, I…" She stumbled, taking a deep breath.

Every hair on her body bristled in unison. The smell. That tantalizing scent. Like fresh apple pie straight out of the oven. Like the smell of melted chocolate drizzled over strawberries and ice cream. So warm, and so rich. That aroma that made her feel things that she could not fully describe. Things she did not fully understand. It was coming from him.

It was him.

He continued to stare her down, waiting for an answer, but Ren's mind had gone completely blank again. She just continued to stare back up at him, taken aback, with her eyes wide as saucers behind her sunglasses.

" _Caw! Caw!"_ The Velociraptor suddenly called loudly, causing goose-bumps to rise on Ren's skin, " _Caw! Aaarrrrrrrkikikik! Caw!"_

The man took a step back, his livid gaze turning slightly intrigued as he turned with his hands still on his belt, glancing over the railing at the dinosaur below.

Ren shook her head, struggling to pull herself together. She was astounded, to say the least, that the mysterious scent she had been following belonged to a person. The thought that the smell could belong to a someone, and not a something, had never even crossed her mind. But, here it was. The scent belonged to a man.

He turned back to her, his eyes still icy as he scrutinized every ounce of her, tilting his head to the right as he looked her up and down.

Ren swallowed thickly. Suddenly snapping out of her stupor, she finally managing, "I'm looking for Owen Grady?"

His scowl deepened, "Who's asking?"

She nodded in understanding, swallowing again and holding the Styrofoam container out to him like an offering, "Fish tacos? Extra jalapeños?"

Owen stared at the container, dumbfounded, before looking back up at her and narrowing his steely eyes. He practically yanked the box from her hands. "What's your name?" He demanded firmly.

His voice held a natural air of authority, and she immediately felt the urge to comply. "Ah… Ren." She answered timidly, "Ren Howlett."

"Right." He nodded tersely, his glower darkening as he gestured for her to follow him, "Come with me."

Obediently, Ren followed Owen down the stairs and across the pitch. His legs were much longer than hers, and she struggled to keep up with him, though she was sure that his temper was also playing a factor in his gate. He was clearly upset about something she had done, though she had no idea what that could be. And, she felt her heart sink when she realized where they were heading. She had messed up, and messed up big-time, apparently.

They approached the lunch table, now surrounded by a throng of people, and Ren could feel the dread mounting in her chest. She watched, stunned, as the mass of men parted in front of them, revealing Mel standing behind the table with the hands on her hips and a wide grin on her exotic face. Her hazel eyes darted from the infuriated Owen, to Ren, and then back again, with her smile wavering anxiously.

"Oh, hey!" She called to Ren, "Good! You found Owen!"

"Oh," Ren whispered to herself nervously as she watched Owen come to a stop in front of the table, tossing the lunch container down, and fold his strong arms over his well-defined chest, "I found him, alright."

He sighed heatedly, "What the hell are you playing at Mel?"

Mel began placing the spare condiments and plastic-ware back into the cardboard box, not looking up from her task as she responded simply, "You have to have a deliveries runner on staff, Owen. It's policy."

"I told you, I don't want a deliveries runner." Owen snapped back at her, "Not after that last moron you sent me."

Mel still did not look up, "Rules are rules. If you don't like it, then take it up with Management."

"They get in the way." He insisted, taking a step towards her and lowering his voice to a bitter whisper, "There are too many people on the site already."

"Hoskins didn't pick this one." Mel whispered back, so quietly that even Ren had to strain her ears to hear, "I did."

Ren frowned, both intrigued and repelled by this new bit of information, remembering what Mel had told her about Vic Hoskins, InGen's Head of Security. She swept her gaze around the gathered crowd as discreetly as she could, her scowl deepening. She counted six ACU troopers, and seven others that were not in uniform, including Owen, Barry, the Aussie, and the old Englishman. But, what disturbed her was the fact that they had separated themselves into two factions, leaving a good three meters in between them.

Owen took a step back, shaking his head furiously, "I don't care who picked her! I just found _your_ runner at the top of the arena, leaning over the damn railing!"

Mel paled slightly. "Oh, well…" She began uncertainly, turning her questioning gaze on Ren and puckering her lips, "That's my fault. I told her to find you and give you your lunch. But, I didn't tell her to stay away from the paddock. I should have. I'm sorry."

"Damn right, you should have!" He snarled, unfolding his arms and resting his hands on his belt again, "You keep sending me these people, Mel! Each one more stupid and reckless than the last! And, I swear, I will not be held responsible when one of them loses an arm! Or worse! Do you hear me?"

"Yes." Mel nodded solemnly, pressing her lips into a thin line, "Yeah, Owen. I hear you." She looked over his shoulder at Ren, eyeing her expressively, "It won't happen again. Will it?"

"Absolutely." Ren replied without protest, the words coming out almost automatically, "Won't happen again."

Owen turned to glare at her, and Ren felt her insides begin to tremble. She immediately clasped her hands behind her back, unsure if they were shaking. There was something in the way he looked at her that sent adrenaline shooting up her spine, coursing through her limbs and causing her heart to feel like it would explode from her chest.

Owen Grady, she realized, was dangerous. He was just as much a predator as the dinosaurs in the paddock behind them.

"Just keep her the hell away from my raptors." He growled viciously, turning on his heels and storming back toward the paddock.

Ren immediately stepped out of his way, his eyes locking frigidly on her as he marched passed. She watched him leave with wide, astonished eyes, suddenly very grateful for her sunglasses, and hoping beyond hope that they had been able to conceal her surprised and fearful expressions throughout the tense encounter.

The men around the table began to disperse, gossiping among themselves, and Ren immediately made her way back to Mel's side with her hands held out in front of her in a half shrug. "What the hell?" She demanded quietly, practically hissing at her boss, "I mean… I mean, _what the hell_?"

Mel let out a long breath, before turning and smiling at her. "You did better than I thought you would." She laughed lightly, clearly relieved, "The last guy was practically in tears before Owen had said two sentences to him."

Ren let out a disbelieving groan, shaking her head back and forth, "You knew that was going to happen?"

"Sorry." Mel told her sincerely, "But, I had to make sure you could handle yourself around him. And, you did incredible."

"So," Ren pressed her bitterly, scowling, "Let me guess. The Velociraptors aren't the reason that nobody wants this job?"

"What can I say?" Mel shrugged her wide shoulders, picking up the cardboard box and heading back to the Jeep, "Owen is _Owen_."

* * *

Ren shut her apartment door with an overly aggressive snap, before groaning loudly and collapsing forward with her forehead pressed against the cool lacquer.

"What the fuck?" She exclaimed to the empty room, exaggerating every syllable as she forced herself away from the door and collapsed heavily into one of the chairs around the messy dining table, tossing her cap onto the pile and dropping her bag onto the floor carelessly. She was still reeling from her day at IBRIS, unable to fully come to terms with everything that had just happened.

"Owen is _Owen_." Mel had kept telling her, even after they had left the research site. "He's headstrong." She had attempted to explain as they had driven back to the park, "I know he's difficult. He's stubborn. And, he doesn't really like people."

"You don't say?" Ren had replied sarcastically, earning a boisterous laugh from Mel.

"And," She had persisted, grinning impishly, "He has zero respect for any sort of authority. Sound like anyone you know?"

Ren had remained silent, focusing on the road with an irritated grimace.

"But, once you get passed all that, he's actually really a good guy. I think this is the right place for you." Mel had then stated optimistically, "I can feel it."

She had seemed certain, Ren recalled as she leaned back in her chair with another groan. The problem was that Ren was not. She had left the site unsettled, to say the least. And, what did Mel know about her, anyway? Though admittedly, she had been correct about her being stubborn, about her not liking people, and about her not respecting authority. But, other than those few things, Mel knew nothing. And, she certainly did not know the things that Ren knew.

She sighed heavily, knowing that none of that really mattered anyway. Ren only had two choices. She could continue working at IBRIS, and stay on Isla Nublar. Or, she could go home to New York, back to the suffocating mansion full of teenage mutants.

Her gaze swept over the books still strewn over the tabletop, eyeing the photograph of Alan Grant on the back of _Dinosaur Detectives,_ and she thought back to the Velociraptor chirping up at her from within the concrete arena. It had been, without a doubt, the most beautiful animal that she had ever seen, and she could scarcely describe the feeling that it had caused to well up in her chest. But, Grant seemed to know. The look on his face, as he held the fossilized claw in his hands, seemed to reflect that overwhelming feeling she had felt.

She reached across the table, picking up the paperback and flipping it over in her hands anxiously before tossing it back on the table with a dismayed scowl. Ren was not allowed around the raptors. Owen had made that abundantly clear. Her encounter, earlier that day, may very well have been the only time she would get to see one of them up close.

And then, there was Owen himself.

Ren thought back to their first meeting, with him rushing at her from across the platform, and her gut reflexively twisted from the memory.

That was another thing that disturbed her. In her entire adult life, she had only ever felt intimidated my one other man. Her father.

Ren was a Feral Class mutant. The Professor had explained it to her shortly after her liberation for the Weapon X program. Specifically, she was a Lupine Feral, the revelation of which had put a great deal of her life into perspective.

She shared many of the bodily and metal traits found in the Canine family. Beyond her physical mutation, which included her healing factor, her enhanced strength and agility, and her superior senses, it greatly explained her personality and psychological state. She had a subconscious instinct that seemed to rule her decisions, and that often conflicted with what one might consider to be civilized behavior. Due to this, or perhaps because of it, many people often saw her as antisocial, or even sociopathic.

But, in truth, Ren was neither. In fact, the Professor had told her, Canine Ferals, and Lupines by proxy, were often the most social among the Feral Class. They may be easily provoked and quick to anger, but they also tended to react with greater emotion than non-Ferals, and often develop strong connections to people. They are fiercely loyal, and frequently territorial, when it comes to the people they care about.

In short, Ren had a pack-mentality that controlled her daily reactions and relationships. It was just simply part of her nature. One that she now fully accepted. And, that was why Logan was able to intimidate her.

In her pack, Logan was the alpha.

So, why then was Owen Grady able to alarm her in such a way? Ren pondered this as she pulled the tie from her hair, running her fingers through her unruly black locks, and allowed her ponytail to unravel over her shoulders. She did not think that he was a mutant. No, she was certain she would have been able to smell it on him if he were. But, then... Why?

Was it possible that she had come across another _true_ alpha male? Like her father?

She groaned again, letting her head hang back over the chair. It was starting to hurt. She rubbed at her temples and closed her eyes.

So what if Owen was an alpha male? He was not her alpha. He should not have been able to shake herself confidence in the way he had. It just did not make any sense to her, and the more she thought about it, the worse her head throbbed.

And then, there was his smell.

"Why does he smell so good?" Ren asked no one with an exasperated grunt. That did not make any sense either.

No one should smell like that.

She straightened up before resting her elbows on the tabletop and digging her fingers into her hair. Maybe this decision was more complex than she had originally thought?

"Oh, hell." She muttered softly, "What do I do?"

She stood, stretching her arms up over her head and yawning loudly as she eyed the twilight outside her window. Maybe things would look better in the morning? What she needed now was a long, hot shower, and a solid eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Not that that was likely to happen.

She was about to head towards the washroom when something glinting in the box on the table caught her eye.

Ren had completely forgotten about the fifth book. She had been so offended by the package Logan and the Professor had sent, that she had shoved the box aside and had refused to think about it. But, the way the light from the setting sun was hitting it now made it hard to ignore. A single, defined ray of light was streaming in through the window, having landed directly on the open box, and was shining off the obsidian cover of the paperback that was still inside.

She removed it, her eyes widening in surprise as she examined the thin document entitled, _Earth's Dominate Species: A Detailed Examination of the Velociraptor_ by Alan Grant, PhD _._

"No way…" She exhaled, rereading the title multiple times just to make sure she had read it correctly, "You have got to be kidding me?"

She flipped it open, her eyes eagerly taking in the first few pages. This was not a mainstream volume like the previous four had been. This was an academic paper, only eighty or so pages long, and published by the University of Colorado Press. Why would Logan have sent this to her?

For a moment she thought about calling and asking him, but she quickly decided against it, instead dropping back down into her seat. Who cared why he had sent it? He probably had no idea what it was even about, only having included it with the others because of the author, and the fact that the publishing date indicated that it had been written after the Isla Nublar incident in 1993.

That must have been it, she decided. He had probably just ordered a bunch of books off Amazon without fully taking into account their content, or context.

Her gaze slid over the Forward, and a smile crept across her lips.

" _By examining known specimens,_ " Grant had written, " _We have been able to determine an exciting correlation between the upper pallet and the larynx of the Velociraptor. This lets us theorize that the raptor was capable of sophisticated vocalizations, which was a tremendous evolutionary advantage for the species. Raptors were fierce, intelligent, and socially sophisticated. They were able to hunt in numbers and coordinate their efforts. This publication will explore the possibility that, had it not been for the cataclysmic events that overtook them, Velociraptors, and not humans, would have become the dominant species on this planet._ "

Ren was not sure what she believed in. Whether it was God, or the universe, Karma, or what? And, she had never been one for religion, or even the thought of destiny or fate. But, in that instant, she chose to see this as a sign.

She continued to read.

* * *

 **I hope this was worth the wait. It took me a long time to get this where I was happy with it.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! There will be much more Owen and Ren in the next chapter. You really didn't think they would get along right off the bat, did you? Where's the fun in that?**

 **Reviews are always loved, and much appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 8

**wThis story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is Rated T for language and adult situations** **.**

* * *

 ***Re-edited 6/24/2018**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Over the next three days, Mel had accompanied Ren to the IBRIS site a total of ten times, until she had completely memorized the route and all the proper procedures.

Ren would arrive at the warehouse every morning at eight, where she would wait patiently by her Jeep for her daily to-do list from Mel. And, since Ren only delivered to the InGen research site, her list was generally pretty short. She would normally make two trips a day, though there had been exceptions, bringing the workers their lunch and dinner orders, and then returning to the warehouse in between. However, she had been informed early on that that was only temporary. Once her training period had finished, she would be staying on site and receiving her orders directly from the InGen crew. And, today was that day.

Ren pulled the Jeep to the center of the pitch, just as she had done on the previous occasions, and parked between the twin trailers and the massive storage port. Switching off the ignition, she paused momentarily to look at the empty seat beside her, before finally dropping down from the driver's seat with an anxious sigh.

Mel was no longer there to act as a buffer. She was on her own.

On edge, she pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose and readjusted the brim of her Jurassic World baseball cap, before circling to the vehicle's trunk and swinging the hatch open. It was hard not to be nervous. Though, over the past few days, she had gotten used to the intoxicating cocktail of scent that surrounded the site, she still felt apprehensive when it came to one on one interactions with the staff.

There were a total of eighteen people who worked at the Integrated Behavioral Raptor Intelligence Study, and ten of those employees were ACU troopers. Most of them, she had learned, were former military who had come home to a difficult job market. Like her, they had jumped at the chance for honest employment with a good wage. And, though they were not as daunting as their ghastly uniforms made them appear, Ren still had difficulty associating with them.

The remaining eight staff members all belonged to the research team itself, which consisted mainly of academics that InGen had recruited from various institutions around the world. There was an American Ethologist from southern Alabama named Dr. Rick Robicheaux, whose focus was solely on the study of the Velociraptors' adaptive behavioral traits. The Aussie in the fedora, it had turned out, was the team's Paleontologist, Dr. Axel Horne. And, the old Englishman with the red face was Dr. Don Ashworth, one of the planet's top Evolutionary Zoologists.

Those on the site without doctoral degrees worked under Barry, caring for the animals themselves. Ben Denali, she had been informed on her second day, was Barry's right hand man. He worked as the assistant caretaker, though his appearance certainly did not suggest it. One look at his long dreadlocks, and her first thought had been that he belonged in a reggae band, not at a top secret research site. But, despite this, Ben actually sported a Bachelor of Science degree in Zoology from Duke University, and had spent the five years before his employment with InGen at the San Diego Zoo. It was his job to oversee the other three handlers; Joe Cameron, Henry Goldberg, and Adam McCann, all of whom held at least a four year degree in something or another.

Ren had spent a good amount of her time over the last few days attempting to make as good of an impression on them as possible, though she was not entirely sure that she had succeeded.

She pulled the table out of the back of the Jeep, bringing it around and unfolding it front of the bulky headlights. She pushed the legs down into the sand to keep it steady on the loose earth, before returning to the trunk for the cooler. Easily lifting the heavy ice chest, she heard a series of quick footsteps jogging towards her.

"Here _,_ " Barry greeted her, pulling the large container from her grasp insistently, "Let me help you."

Ren was taken aback by his abrupt appearance. Her first instinct was to clutch onto the chest possessively, pulling it back with a territorial grimace. However, it was not until she noticed the befuddled expression that crossed his face that she realized she had done something odd. She quickly glanced down at the chest, suddenly very self-conscious.

"No, ah…" She struggled to correct her behavior, "That's alright. I've got it."

"I insist," He asserted.

She tightened her grip on the cooler, her brow furrowing stubbornly, "It's _my_ job."

Barry's bewildered expression softening slightly in understanding as he slipped his fingers around the plastic edges. "True." He told her, his thick accent adding sincerity to his statement, "But, there is no shame in accepting help from others when it is offered."

Ren hesitated, immediately baffled by the bluntness of the statement. And yet, for some unknown reason, it resonated with her in a way she could not fully refute. Glancing down at his large black hands on the white cooler, she pulled her hands away uncertainly. "Um…" She struggled, stepping back and turning towards the open hatch, "Thank you?"

Barry chuckled softly, his lips curling into a small smile as he carried the cooler towards the waiting table, "You're welcome."

She watched him disappear around the Jeep's hood, before shaking her head in frustration as she scolded herself bitterly, "Nice going, Ren. Could you possibly be any more of a freak?"

She swiftly snatched the cardboard box full of lunch orders from the trunk, hurriedly following Barry passed the headlights. She set the box on the tabletop just as Barry was straightening up from the cooler with a bottle of water in his hand, twisting off the cap as he stood. He had placed the plastic chest on the ground next to the table legs, and had left the lid open with the already melting ice exposed to the midday sun.

Ren began pulling the Styrofoam cartons from the box, only glancing at Barry in her periphery as she lined the containers up with the order receipts in full view, just as she had been taught. She paused when her eyes caught sight of his name printed on the ticket stuck to the carton in her hand. Almost in unison, she heard his stomach growl hungrily, and she had to fight to suppress an amused smirk. Turning to him, she held out his food sympathetically, "Is this what you've been looking for?"

He laughed; a deep, guttural chuckle that came from his core as accepted the boxed lunch gratefully, "Bless you."

"You're welcome." She responded amiably as she finished lining up the lunches and began putting out the condiments, napkins and plastic-ware.

Barry slid passed her, opening his container as he went and pulling out a sandwich wedge. He held the slices of bread between his lips as he reached over the driver's side door and tapped the horn twice.

"Thanks." Ren called over her shoulder as she bent, placing the empty box under the table.

Berry leaned against the Jeep's over-sized grill with his container in one hand, the sandwich in the other, and a large bite rolling in his mouth, "You're welcome."

It was not long before a crowd had gathered around the table. Everyone was eager to collect their orders, hungry from hours in the sun. One by one, Ren greeted each of them with a forced smile, dutifully handing them their meals and trying not to be bothered by the obvious divide between them. But, as soon as they received their food, they would split off into their factions, with the ACU members huddling together by the storage port steps, and the academics grouping around a picnic table outside Trailer 1.

She sighed as the last order left the table, lifting the brim of her hat and wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. It was ungodly humid today, and Ren was looking forward to finding a shady spot on the pitch to put her feet up for a while.

She began replacing the condiments and spare forks into the cardboard box, when she suddenly noticed an unclaimed Styrofoam container sitting on the edge of the table. Her eyes darted from the ACU troopers, to the research team, and then back again. Frowning, she pulled it towards her, spinning the box around in her hands to read the name on the ticket. Immediately, she felt her heart drop.

Owen Grady had not ordered anything from the Hilton's kitchen since Ren's first day on the job, and she had been secretly grateful for that. In fact, Owen Grady had not said a word to her since he had loudly reprimanded her in front of Mel and the entire IBRIS team. He had not so much as come within ten yards of her, nor had he even glanced her way in the last three days. It seemed that he had chosen to ignore Ren altogether, which was entirely fine by her, except for the fact that she still had a job to do. Whether Owen Grady liked it, or not.

Ren sniffed at the container discreetly, her nose filling with the scent of seared beef, crispy bacon, and lots of salty fried potatoes. She groaned softly, rereading the name on the ticket before swearing colorfully under her breath and gently dropping the container back on the table with a troubled frown.

"He's not what you think." Barry informed her evenly.

Her head whirled around, surprised. She had almost forgotten he was there, but Barry had remained unmoved throughout her entire delivery, leaning against the Jeep as he polished off the last of his sandwich.

"What?" She questioned, knowing full well what he had ment.

"Owen," He elaborated, pushing himself away from the vehicle and placing his empty carton on the table next to Owen's full one, "He's not what you think."

Pursing her lips defiantly as she continued cleaning up, Ren shook her head and quickly lied, "I don't know what you mean."

"You scared him." Barry informed her, his tone turning somber, "When he found you at the top of the arena?"

She froze with a ketchup bottle still clasped in tightly in her grip and her gaze still locked on the empty cardboard box.

"I've known Owen for a long time." He continued solemnly, "I was working for the Berlin Zoological Garden when I first met him. Part of a collaborating research effort with the American Navy's Marine Mammal Program in San Diego. And, even then, I was impressed with his insight into animal behavior."

He sighed heavily, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table. "You need to understand," He told her direly, "These animals… They're not like lions or wolves. And, this place? It's not a zoo. There is a very real reason why we're so isolated from the rest of the island."

"What are you trying to say?" Ren asked carefully, fighting back the bite in her voice as she finally looked up from the box with a perplexed scowl.

Barry's smile suddenly returned, though it seemed tainted now, not quite reaching his eyes. "There is no one on Earth who knows what these animals are capable of more than Owen. And, when he saw you up there? So close to them? It shook him. Much more than he'll ever admit."

He straightened back up, placing his hands in the pockets of his khaki trousers and causally making his was toward the others around the picnic table, "That's why he was so hard on you. He was afraid."

Ren could feel the spiteful glower on her face as she watched him walk away, but she was unable to help herself. Her upper lip palpitated in a silent snarl as she thought back to Owen rushing at her from across the elevated platform. All six-foot-something of his muscle had been coiled with wrath as he had loomed over her, glaring down at her threateningly and demanding to know exactly what she had been doing there. Just thinking about it made her stomach knot up and a shiver to go down her spine.

And, he had been afraid?

The more that Ren had thought about that encounter over the past few days, the more she had realized how truly terrified she had been in that moment. And, fear was not an emotion she was used to feeling.

Not in that context.

Barry stopped abruptly, pulling Ren from her inner thoughts as he glanced over his shoulder, adding as an afterthought, "You should given him another chance. He might surprise you."

She scoffed at the idea, louder than she had ment to, but if Barry heard her, he did not react. He just continued onward, casually taking a seat between Ben and Dr. Horne.

Ren's gaze slowly dropped back to the carton on the table, her uneasy glower darkening the creases of her face. She rested her hands on her hips and growled quietly in the back of her throat, dread quickly spreading through her chest, "Ah, hell…"

She was still afraid, she realized bitterly as she fidgeted with her brim of her hat, pulling it low over her sunglasses. She was afraid, overwrought, and perplexed by the mix of emotions that were steadily building inside her. And, in all honesty, Ren had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Of course, she mused grimly, not knowing how to deal with her emotions was nothing new. Having a psychopathic telepath rip apart your mind did tend to have some pretty serious side effects, and Professor Xavier had not been exaggerating when he had told her that she had made substantial progress over the past two years. After all, when Jason Wyngarde's hold over her mind had been broken, her consciousness had been left virtually shattered, leaving her in a primal, animal like, state. And, she had been wild. Vicious even. Her temperament had been rabid, causing her to strike out at everyone that had come near her.

Logan had been the only exception.

Silently, she wondered how he would handle a situation like this, though she sincerely doubted Logan had ever been made to feel this way by anyone. Almost immediately, an image of her violently shoving Grady against a wall with her claws pressed tightly to his throat flashed through her mind, and she had to suppress a twisted smirk. She quickly rationalized that would most definitely not help. In fact, she admitted to herself with a furrowed brow, most of what her instincts were telling her would not help the situation. What she needed to be was the opposite of Logan.

Not feral, but civil.

She wiped her palms against her shorts apprehensively, before tugging at the collar of her polo shirt and brushing her ponytail over her shoulder. "I'd rather deal with a sentinel," She mumbled to herself, her heart drumming in her ears, "It'd be easier."

She took a deep breath through her mouth, holding the container tightly with both hands as she approached Trailer 2. Dimly, she was aware of many sets of eyes following her as she passed Trailer 1 and the table full of researchers. She tried to force herself to ignore them, even as she heard Adam exclaim comically, "Go get him girl!"

His outburst was quickly followed by a barely stifled roar of laughter from the others, and she shook her head with a renewed grimace, not at all amused.

Ren could smell Owen. The closer she got to the office trailer, the stronger his sent became. She could see the traces of it dangling in the air like a ribbon of shifting blue light, guiding her upward as her foot landed on the first of the aluminum steps. Once again, she felt her heartrate sky-rocket as his tantalizing aroma caused bumps to rise on her skin. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, unable to stop herself from greedily breathing it in, and hating herself all the more for it as she climbed the stairs.

She re-read his name on the Plexiglas window twice, before steadily raising her hand and knocking firmly.

There was a moment of silence. She was about to knock again, when suddenly Owen's irritated grumble called through the door, "Yeah?"

Ren pushed her way inside cautiously, the cool air refreshing against her skin as she stepped out of the hot sun. Pulling off her sunglasses, she squinted, trying to adjust her eyes to the abrupt lessoning of light.

Owen did not look up. He was sitting behind the wooden desk, with the harsh light from the large computer monitor sharpening his features severely as he hunched over the mess of papers spread out in front of him. His grip was white-knuckled around a pen in one hand, with the other knotted tightly in his russet hair. He looked frustrated, with the muscles of his broad shoulders glaringly stiff.

She shut the door behind her, careful to make as little noise as possible, and took a few wary steps forward. The floor creaked under her movement, reverberating through the trailer noisily, and she cringed.

His head snapped up, the surprise on his face instantly masked by an annoyed frown as he dropped the pen onto the desktop and straightened.

Ren was once again struck dumb as his cobalt eyes locked on her, causing her to breathe in sharply. "You, ah…" She struggled quietly, lifting the container in her hands pointedly, "You didn't pick up your lunch."

Owen's icy gaze dropped to the boxed meal, before slowly rising back up to her face. "Just put it there," He told her plainly, indicating the folding table to her right with a slight tilt of his head.

She nodded, gingerly placing the box on the tabletop. When she looked back up, Owen had gone back to his paperwork. Hunching back over the files, his grip was still far too tight on his pen, and he looked as though he was about to yank that tuff of hair from his scalp.

Ren swallowed thickly, aware that she had been dismissed. She backed to the door slowly, turning on her heel and preparing to leave, when she suddenly stopped with her hand hovering over the doorknob.

Why was she so afraid? In the last three days she had asked herself that question a hundred times, and yet she still did not have an answer. What did she have to be afraid of?

Taking another deep breath to steel her nerves, she straightened her shoulders and squared her jaw resolutely, turning back to face Owen.

"I'm not stupid." She stated boldly.

He looked up, clearly surprised by her outburst, "Excuse me?"

She took a defiant step forward, holding herself at her full height. "The other day?" She began decisively, "When we met? You said that the delivery runners have all been stupid and reckless." She took another step forward, raising her amber eyes to meet his hostile gaze challengingly, "I'm not stupid."

Owen immediately sat back in his chair, sighing deeply through his nostrils in frustration and grinding his teeth behind the severe line of his lips. He tossed the pen down aggressively, before dropping his hands off the desk and out of sight. Ren instinctually braced herself at the movement, but she did not back down.

"I'll give you reckless." She agreed with a half shrug, holding up her palms in a submissive gesture, "I go with my gut, and I don't always think things through." She swallowed dryly, her skin crawling from his unrelenting, dominating stare, "But, I'm not stupid, Mr. Grady."

Owen sighed again, overtly, with the crease of his brow deepening in exasperation, "Okay…?"

There was something in his tone that suddenly struck a very raw nerve with her. Ren narrowed her eyes, her gaze suddenly razor sharp as she stepped forward daringly, folding her arms across her breasts and leering at him fiercely. "Look." She began flatly, her voice gaining strength with every syllable, "I get that I crossed some sort of line. And, I can see that you're pissed. But, I need this job." She took another deep breath, determined to stare him down as she repeated, "I need this job. So, what can I do to fix this?"

He did not immediately respond. He continued stare up at her coldly, the line of his mouth down turning. "Fix this?" He questioned callously, raising a cynical eyebrow.

She forcefully swallowed the growl that rose in her throat, and instead did her best to soften her expression. "Rules." She suggested, "Clear set boundaries. I'm in your territory now. I get that. So, you lay out the law? And, I'll follow it. Just tell me what I gotta do."

He shifted slightly, the corners of his lips twitching as he fought to keep the amusement off his face, "It's that simple, huh?"

Ren nodded slowly. She could hear the mockery in his voice, but she had come too far to back out now. "Rule number one," She recited bluntly, "Stay the hell away from your raptors. What else you got for me?"

Owen snorted in disbelief, his amusement seemingly gone in an instant. He leaned forward menacingly, opening his mouth to retort, when he was abruptly interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. And, before either of them could fully turn their attention to it, the door had been ripped open and the uninvited visitor was boisterously stepping inside.

"Owen!" The man called excitedly with his arms outstretched in greeting. He turned towards them with a wide grin, before quickly feigning startled embarrassment as his muddy brown eyes danced between the two of them, "Oh? Am I interrupting something?"

Ren had to resist the urge to cover her nose. The instant the stranger entered, she was overwhelmed by his overpoweringly rotten stench. He smelled like a mixture of stale whiskey and sweat-soaked socks, tainted ever so slightly by the nicotine patch under his sleeve and the menthol on his breath. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from gagging.

The new comer was a few inches taller than Owen, and was at least fifteen years his senior. She could tell by his physique that he had once been in good shape, but his body had given into age. Though his arms and shoulders were still well defined, he had gained a few extra pounds around his middle. His tan shirt and dark pants appeared just a little too tight, with his belly bulging out over his belt, and his hairline was receding. What hair he had left was thinning, peppered with salt, and had gone white at the temples. But, it appeared very well kept, trimmed neatly in a high and tight, with a goatee to match.

"Vic," Owen addressed him, clearly surprised as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "What, ah…? What can I do ya' for?"

Vic laughed, and the sound made Ren's arm hair stand on end. He dismissed Owen with a wave of his hand, "Do I need a reason to check in? Say hello to you boys?"

"No." Owen replied humorlessly, "Of course not."

Vic made his way deeper into the trailer, gesturing to Ren openly with a sickeningly sweet smile as he moved. "Now, this must be our new deliveries runner?" He held out his large hand to her genially, "Vic Hoskins."

Ren did not want to take his hand. Every instinct in her body was telling her not to touch him.

Reluctantly, she put her hand in his, keeping her grip firm as she allowed him shake it. "Ren Howlett." She introduced herself politely, though she was aware of an edge to her voice that had not been there a moment ago, "Nice to meet you."

After a few tense seconds, she attempted to pull her hand away, but Hoskins held on to it. Ren immediately wrinkled her brow questioningly, looking down at his hand as her lips quickly pressed into a troubled line. Glancing back at his face, she was horrified to see recognition in his wide eyes.

"Wait a minute…" He chuckled, a knowing, toothy grin slicing across his features, "Just wait one damn minute…" He pointed at her with an accusing, meaty finger, "I know you."

Ren felt her heart skip a beat. Her left hand instantly curled into a tight fist as she once again tried to tactfully pull her right from Hoskins' grasp. "You do?" She asked icily, her lips twitching. She felt her claws shift through the bones in her wrist, stopping with the blades' points just under the skin of her knuckles.

"Yeah!" He boomed energetically, the sound coming from deep within his barreled chest, "You're that waitress!"

Ren was not sure whether she should be relieved, or alarmed. But, she supposed that being recognized for her role in the Masrani incident was preferable to the alternative.

Hoskins suddenly released her hand, and she hastily pulled it away. Her skin felt grimy from his touch, and it took everything she had not to openly wipe her palm against her shorts.

"Waitress?" Owen interjected alongside a faint twitch in his cheek.

Ren glanced back at him, but for some reason she could no longer bring herself to hold his gaze. She dropped her eyes her sneakers, feeling a sudden heat flushing in her cheeks.

"Yeah…" Hoskins drawled, still chuckling to himself as he took a step closer to her. His eyes slid over her body, "Boy, I'll tell you what… You are defiantly not what I expected."

Immediately, Ren's eyes snapped up from the floor, seething brightly with a rekindled rage. She struggled to force it aside, biting down on her tongue and watching him closely.

"That incident the other night? At The Overlook?" He grinned at Owen devilishly, shaking his head in disbelief as his grin grew even wider, "With Masrani and Dearing? This is the waitress that laid out that protester. Knocked him out cold with one punch. Broke his jaw in three places."

Ren remained silent, her eyes still locked steadily on Hoskins' face. He shifted his stance somewhat, and then all at once his demeanor changed.

"That's one hell of a right hook you got there." He told her smoothly, his impressed tone tainted by the suspicion dripping off of his words. He folded his arms over his broad chest, holding his superior size over her haughtily, "Where'd a little thing like you learn to throw a punch like that?"

Ren did not blink, "My old man taught me."

"That right?" He tilted his head slightly. His movements were causal, but his grin was waning with every word, "What's he do?"

"He's a history teacher." She replied coolly, still not looking away.

Hoskins nodded, the humor on his face taking more and more effort to uphold. "Now, that is impressive." He told her, suddenly tearing his attention away from her and looking to Owen with a good natured shrug of his massive shoulders, "God, I wish I'd of seen it. The security video just doesn't do it justice. The angle is just all wrong. Can't really see anything until the guy goes down. But, man, I'll tell you what…" He once again locked his eyes with hers, his stare dissecting her every movement, "I'd sure as shit love to see a demonstration."

"Are you volunteering?"

The words were out of Ren's mouth before she had even realized what she had said. She immediately dug her teeth into the inside of her lip, watching as Hoskins' brow rose in surprise. Tension instantly began building in the trailer. She could feel it thickening in the air around them, so she did the only thing she could think to do to alleviate the situation. She quickly forced her antagonistic leer into and enticing grin, brushing a stray curl behind her ear coyly.

His shocked expression abruptly disappeared and he burst into laughter, holding his belly.

Ren's stomach did an uneasy flip as she turned away from him, once again feeling heat rise in her face as humiliation washed over her.

She made the mistake of looking back at Owen. Once again, his cobalt eyes were fixated directly on her, but the hostility in his gaze had seemingly vanished. For the first time since she had met him, his expression was void of any anger, irritation, or frustration. And, though she could not interpret his features at the moment, that absence had greatly changed his facade. He looked younger and infinitely more handsome. Ren felt her heart jump into her throat as she quickly glanced away, unable to shake the renewed embarrassment that had suddenly settled over her.

"Say, Sweetheart?" Hoskins addressed her as his laughter subsided, "Do you mind giving us a minute? I need to speak with Owen, here, in private."

She looked up from her sneakers, too relieved to have an excuse to leave to be bothered his misogynistic behavior. "Right," She apologized quietly, her cheeks still burning as she swiftly stepped backward and turned to leave, "Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Grady."

"Thanks a bunch!" Hoskins called after her as she practically leapt out the door and rushed down the stairs.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, hugging herself tightly as she hurried back towards her Jeep. But, unfortunately, she was still in earshot when she clearly heard Hoskins exclaim from inside the closed trailer, "Boy, she'll do. Huh?"

Ren physically gagged. Every inch of her skin was crawling as she rushed to the table and quickly began throwing what was left of the plastic-ware into the cardboard box. She managed to replace the table and the cooler into the Jeep's trunk in record time, barely even taking into account what she was doing as she slammed the hatch shut heatedly. Striding around to the front of the vehicle, she climbed into the driver's seat and rested her forehead limply on the steering wheel with an aggravated huff, "Asshole."

* * *

Ren was reclining in the passenger seat with the brim of her hat pulled low over her face and her feet propped up on the dashboard. Dr. Grant's _E_ _arth's Dominate Species_ was open on her chest as her eyes scanned down the page avidly. She had backed the Jeep into the shadow of the storage port, making sure that she still had a full view of the pitch and the enormous arena through the windshield, before she had hit the seat controls and opened her book.

She was still unquestionably unsettled by her encounter with Victor Hoskins. He vividly reminded her of someone. Of who, Ren was not completely sure. That identity was probably lost in the ruins of her memory forever. But, whoever it was, she hated him. And, she hated Hoskins, too. The man gave her the creeps, and she had been determined to be out of the way when he had left Trailer 2 a little over an hour ago.

She had done her best to put him out of her mind by forcing herself back into Grant's research. This was her second run through his paper, and she was captivated by his theories on Velociraptors; particularly, his views on their communication abilities. She had been thinking about the raptors' _clicks_ and _caws_ for days now. And, as she contemplated Grant's hypotheses, she took the time to listen to the complex series of sounds that drifted towards her from the arena.

A small smile graced her lips. She was not sure why it excited her, but it did. In fact, it was the first thing that Ren could remember ever being excited about. Over the past two years, all she could think about had been making it to the next day. It was a dull, grueling existence. Like being stuck in a perpetual state of waiting. But, now, she found herself thinking about more than just survival.

For once in her life, she was thinking about actually living.

Without warning, Owen's tormenting scent wafted under her nose. Immediately, she glanced up from her page, her eyes widening in alarm as she caught sight of him casually strolling towards her from across the pitch.

"Oh, shit." She breathed, discreetly closing her book and slipping it into the bag resting under her legs, "What's he want now?"

She made herself appear as relaxed as possible, resting with one arm on her abdomen and the other above her head as he got closer. Slowly, she tipped her hat the rest of the way over her eyes, listening carefully to his boots on the sand. His steps were soft and even. His breathing was calm and composed. And, when she felt his presence suddenly loom over her, it did not at all feel threatening.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Grady?" She asked warily as she slowly pushed up the brim of her hat to look at him.

He was leaning over her with his arms raised above his head, resting his forearms on the Jeep's roll bar. "Why are you here?" He asked her intently, his striking eyes looking down at her with a stillness that was almost as jarring as his animosity.

"I told you," She began cautiously, raising her eyes to meet his, "I needed the job."

"Why?" He pushed. His voice was somehow more demanding in its softness.

Ren swallowed aridly. She once again felt her face turning hot as she shrugged her shoulders against the seatback. "It was either this, or leave." She told him honestly, "And, I didn't want to leave."

"Leave the island?" He asked, frowning down at her.

"Yeah." She confirmed, mirroring his expression, "Leave the island."

"So..." He griped brashly, grinding his teeth behind the unsympathetic line of his mouth as he chose his words, "You play hero? Save Masrani from a big-bad radical? And, what? Dearing had you fired?"

Ren narrowed her eyes, unable to ignore the blatant skepticism in his tone. "I didn't do it for Masrani." She lashed back at him, "I don't give a shit about Masrani. Or, Dearing for that matter."

Owen raised his brow, surprised, "No?"

"No." Ren snapped abrasively, "My friend was waiting on their table. She got caught between Masrani and that asshole. That's why I did it. It didn't had shit to do with Masrani."

She had to pause, struggling to subdue the primal snarl she could feel rising up from her diaphragm. "As for the Dearing?" She continued sharply, her upper lip pulled back in a spiteful sneer, "Yeah. She had me fired. Said I made too big a spectacle of myself. Bad for business, or some bullshit. I'd be back in New York right now if Lydia hadn't introduced me to Mel. So, yeah. It was either this, or leave. Like I said."

She collapsed back in her seat, still fuming as she looked away, shaking her head in disgust.

"Hmmm…" She heard the sound rumbled from deep within Owen's chest, almost like a growl. She quickly turned her attention back to him, alarmed by the animalistic nature of the sound. Her stomach did another anxious flip.

He swept his hard eyes over her, though his stare was not as explicit or as violating as Hoskins' had been. Instead, he seemed to be searching her for something. Nevertheless, Ren squirmed uncomfortably as his intense glare slid down her body, digging her fingers into her polo shirt and tugging downward on its hem modestly.

Owen shifted slightly, sensing her discomfort as his gaze slid back up to her face apologetically. He looked as though he was about to say something, when suddenly his eyes snapped back down towards her feet and he grimaced. Sliding his arms off the roll bar in a fluid movement, he immediately reached down around her legs and snatched her bag off of the floor.

Ren instantly sprang up into a sitting position, pulling her legs in as she was taken off guard by his sudden grab. Her heart throbbed loudly in her ears as he pulled Grant's book from the mouth of the bag with a puckered brow. He began thumbing through the pages slowly, before suddenly looking back at her with a piercing, bemused glower, "Where'd you get this?"

"Amazon." She lied, feeling guilty the instant the word left her tongue.

"Hmmm…" The same contemplating rumble as before. Owen had once again locked his unnerving eyes on her face, but his expression was impossible to read. "You're sure you haven't gone near the paddock?"

"No." She assured him.

"You're positive?" He pressed firmly.

"Yes, I'm positive." She stated defensively, scowling at the accusatory nature of the question, "I haven't been near the arena since the other day. Why?"

He did not answer, simply offered her the book back, "Don't let Hoskins catch you with that. He already thinks you're a spy."

This piece of information did not at all come as a surprise to Ren. However, the fact that Owen was willing to share it with her was shocking. Guardedly, she accepted the book, never pulling her eyes from his face, "And, what do you think?"

"Don't know yet." He told her earnestly, leaning back over her as he replaced his forearms on the roll bar.

Ren nodded slowly, her eyes dropping to Grant's paper as she ran her finger down the spine thoughtfully. She heard Owen sigh deeply, apprehensive as he shifted his weight to his other foot.

"Alright." He began suddenly, his voice stern and absolute, "Rule one. You do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it. No back talk. If I even hear the word 'but' come out of your mouth? You're out of here. Got it?"

Her gaze immediately shot up from the book's sleek cover, unable to hide her stunned expression as she gaped at him.

"Rule two," He continued harshly, sighing roughly though his nostrils, "Is stay the hell away from my raptors. You do not go near that arena without an escort. Either Barry, or myself. Yeah?"

She nodded fervently, still wide-eyed.

"Rule three," He pressed direly as he leaned in, gliding his arms down the roll bar and gripping it firmly with both hands as he rocked forward on the balls of his feet. He locked his eyes intently on hers, with the tip of his nose was less than a foot away from her face. Ren could feel his breath on her skin, and she was certain he could hear her heart thudding in against her rib cage.

"And, this is the most important thing." He told her gravely, "Are you listening?"

"Yes." She breathed quietly, her mouth going dry.

"Never." He commanded her, his voice slightly deeper than normal as he exaggerated every syllable, "Ever. Call me 'Mr. Grady', again."

Ren blinked, dumbfounded.

"Bu—?" She began, but quickly let the word drop when she saw Owen pointedly raise an eyebrow. He held her gaze, and Ren suddenly found herself struggling to suppress a genuine laugh. She bite down on her bottom lip, covering her mouth with her hand as he promptly straighten up and began to make his way back towards the arena.

"Hey! Wait!" She quickly called after him, bewildered. Lunging forward, she pulled herself up out of her seat to see him better, "Does this mean I can stay?"

Owen turned, continuing to slowly step backwards with his dominate hand resting on his belt buckle. "I guess we'll see." He smirked fiendishly back at her, "Won't we?"

* * *

 **Please review!**


	11. Chapter 9

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is Rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 **PLEASE NOTE: As of 6/24/2018, the Prologue through Chapter Eight have been re-edited.**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

Renegade strolled leisurely down the shoulder of the road, enjoying the humid night air as she made her way towards Nowhere.

It was nearly eleven o'clock at night. The asphalt thoroughfare was pitch black, with the lush jungle on either side having been completely consumed by a massive void, leaving her with only the quarter moon and stars to light her way. But, the dark had never bothered Ren. Her feral mutation had caused the growth of a reflective tissue within her eyes known as tapetum lucidum; a tissue normally only found in the eyes of animals. It had significantly increased the visual stimulation of her photoreceptors, naturally enhancing her eyesight and allowing her to see as clearly at night as she did during the day. Suffice to say, she had no problem navigating her way down the isolated stretch of pavement without the aid of a flashlight.

Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the moist sent of the foliage as she pulled the tie from her hair and shook her long mane free. Running her fingers anxiously through the thick, obsidian curls, they fell loose over her taut shoulders and cascaded down the regal curve of her back. She groaned softly, stretching upward with both hands above her head, causing the hem of her rust colored camisole to expose her well-defined stomach, and her overly tense muscles to scream back at her in protest.

Her gut was still churning from earlier. Despite her fervent attempts to drive the day's stressful events from her mind, Ren had been unable to shake the ominous feeling that had glued itself to her. She could not help but to obsess over the distressing proceedings, until she was certain that no detail had gone overlooked. However, Victor Hoskins' foul stench had fused itself to the inside of her nostrils, and the skin on her right hand still felt like it was caked in filth. And, again, she found herself thinking about how his greedy eyes sliding over her body as he had measured her up, and about how he had held his superior size over her. Nevertheless, there was something else weighing on her mind that troubled her far more.

Her thoughts abruptly turned back to Owen Grady, and Ren felt her face flush with fresh heat. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips idly as she tried to conceal the unexpected wave of embarrassment. It was the image of his unforgiving eyes sliding over her body that was truly vexing her. Just the thought of it caused her heart to flutter rapidly against her sternum in a way that was so completely foreign to her. And, before she could stop herself, she was thinking of his scent. That tantalizing, tormenting aroma that was driving her absolutely insane.

Even his breath on her cheeks as he had leaned over her had smelled sweet.

A volatile, primal snarl suddenly escaped her as she slid her hand up through her bangs, fisting it tightly into her hair as she shook her head at her own irrationality.

She turned into the bar's parking lot, the gravel crunching under her sneakers. She could hear Willie Nelson blaring from the open patio in the back, accompanied by dozens of voices and random bursts of festive laughter. The greasy sent of burgers and chicken wings wafted under her nostrils, causing her stomach to growl hungrily as she quickened her pace.

She was suddenly forced to stop in her tracks as a park-owned Mercedes swiftly sped passed her, blaring its horn rudely as it kicked up pebbles in its wake. Ren's eyes gleamed brightly in the dark as the headlights hit them, her striking face distorted with feral rage. She growled deep in her throat, watching as it skidded to a halt in a tight parking space, before she continued towards the swinging double doors.

Nowhere was extremely crowded tonight. Employees from all over the park appeared to have gathered for an end of the week drink. Ren gradually made her way passed the oak bar and the twinkling Christmas lights, her eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces. And, after a few moments of searching, the comforting scents of lavender shampoo and hair gel drifting under her nose.

"Ren?" She heard Oliver's voice fighting to be heard over the throng of people, "Hey! Ren! Over here!"

Oliver was waving at her from their usual table by the jukebox. He was seated against the wall with a large, acid green margarita and a plate of cheesy nachos on the table in front of him. Daisy was seated across from him, nibbling on the corn chip perched delicately between her fingers. She quickly turned, joining him in enthusiastically waving her over.

Ren carefully slinked her way through the mass of patrons, careful not to bump into anyone. Which was difficult, mainly because no one else seemed to care if they collided with a stranger. Still, she eventually made it to the table unmolested, collapsing heavily into the corner seat.

"We got you a beer." Oliver told her, gently pushing the waiting bottle of Corona towards her with a warm smile.

Ren's eyes locked longingly on the drink, glistening with condensation and topped with a perfectly ripe lime wedge. "Olli," She told him earnestly as she plucked the bottle from the table, "I think I love you."

Daisy took a sip from her daiquiri, her brow creasing as she surveyed Ren over the rim of her glass. She quickly set the fruity drink down, her lips puckering in concern, "Hey? Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Ren questioned numbly as she pushed the lime into the bottle. She took a swig from the longneck with a satisfied purr, feeling the cold liquid slide down into her empty stomach joyfully. She then quickly shook her head, bring herself back to the moment, "Oh, no. Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a long day."

Daisy continued to look at her doubtingly.

"Mmmhmm!" Ren hummed excitedly though her second sip, desperate to change the subject as she waved her hands encouragingly at the two of them. She set the bottle back on the table, "Alright! Come on! Tell me about your day! How was the park?"

Today had been the first day since they had arrived on Isla Nublar, that the two of them had had the same day scheduled off at The Overlook. Daisy and Oliver had been planning on exploring the park together for nearly a week now. And, Ren had originally been planning on joining them, but with everything that had happened, she had been forced to cancel at the last minute.

She listened intently as Oliver and Daisy regaled her with their day of frolic at Jurassic World. They had started the day by watching the morning Mosasaurus feeding, before moving onto the Underwater Observatory, and then exploring the Innovation Center. And, after having a leisurely lunch at Sunrio, which had included plenty of tequila, they had paddled down the river along the Cretaceous Cruise.

"In hindsight," Oliver admitted with an embarrassed chuckle, "That was probably not the best idea."

Daisy snorted, turning to Ren as she giggled, "He tipped over. Twice."

Ren laughed with them, finally feeling the stress of the day start to melt away. She listened happily as they told her about their ride on the Gondola Lift, on which Daisy had discovered she was still afraid of heights. And, about their trip to T. Rex Kingdom, which had them both seriously considering vegetarianism as a new way of life. All in all, they had had a great time together. Their only regret, the kept emphasizing, had been that Ren had not been able to experience it with them.

"So," Oliver drawled, taking a long sip of his margarita and smiling at her with his prying eyes, "How's the new job going? You haven't told us much."

"No," Ren admitted as she swirled the lime in her beer, "But, to be fair, I did sign a non-disclosure agreement when I took the job."

Oliver rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Oh! Come on!" He laughed, "You've got to give us something! I mean, there's got to be some juicy details you can share? Right?"

Daisy nodded in agreement, stuffing another corn chip between her teeth and smiling at her expectantly.

Ren sighed, dropping her eyes to the dripping condensation on her beer and shaking her head with an oh-so-knowing grin, "Well, it's been interesting…"

She took another sip of her Corona, fully expecting to elaborate on her statement, when suddenly Owen's tormenting scent drifted under her nose. She nearly choked as the warm, rich aroma seemed to saturate the air around her, blocking out every other odor in to room. Taken by surprise, it nearly blinded her, momentarily causing a white-out in her brain before she was able to pull herself back to her senses. She swallowed her mouthful with difficulty, coughing as goosebumps rose on her skin, and her animalistic eyes immediately shifted towards the entrance.

She watched anxiously as Owen entered through the swinging doors, very aware of the sudden burning sensation in her cheeks. He moved through the crowd casually, stopping at the bar to order a drink. Ren instantly noticed that he had changed out of his keeper's attire, replacing the button-up shirt and heavy leather vest with a bluish-grey Henley tee and a pair of khaki cargo pants. She had never seen him look so at easy before, studying him closely as he leaned forward with his elbows propped on the bar. He slid his right foot backwards, causally resting the toe of his boot on the floor as he signaled lightheartedly to the bartender, his refection in the mirror distorted by the twinkle of the Christmas lights.

"Ren?" Dimly, she could hear Oliver calling to her, "Hello? Earth to Ren?"

Ren immediately dropped her eyes to the table, focusing intently on the dwindling plate of nachos, "Hmm?"

"Ren?" He called again, shifting in his seat next to her, "What are you—?" He leaned forward, trying to match his line of sight to hers, "Ren, who is that?"

Her mouth had gone very dry. She swallowed thickly, bring the bottle back to her lips, "Who?"

Oliver and Daisy both gave her eerily similar, exasperated looks.

Ren took several long gulps from her beer, before dropping it back to the table and glancing uneasily back in Owen's direction. He was still waiting on the bartender, glancing around idly as he fiddled with something small in his hands.

"Who? Him?" She questioned, trying her best to sound casual and failing miserably, "He's, ah…" She cleared her throat, "He's my new boss."

Her friends both whipped their heads around in unison.

" _That's_ your boss?" Daisy exclaimed disbelievingly, her mouth hanging open.

"One of them." Ren confirmed with a half shrug.

Oliver had leaned back in his seat, eyes wide as he stretched his neck to get a better look, "Damn…"

Daisy spun back around as Oliver continued to leer, shoving at Ren's shoulder playfully. "Ren!" She laughed, "Why didn't you say something? Oh my God!"

Ren narrowed her eyes, slightly confused by their reaction as she squirmed away from Daisy's touch. "Um," She struggled, "Sorry?"

Oliver shook his head as he bit down on his bottom lip, "I mean, will you look at that man's ass?"

The heat in Ren's cheeks was unbearable. She forced another gulp of her beer down as she averted her gaze to the floor.

Oliver turned back to her, his grin widening impishly as his eyes fell on her obviously embarrassed expression, "Christ, that man is fine as f—"

"Hey, look!" Ren suddenly exclaimed, much louder than she had meant to, as she frantically attempted to divert the conversation, "There's a pool table free!" She pointed animatedly towards the line of tables in the back of the bar, already grabbing her beer and leaping to her feet, "Let's go play some pool!"

She ignored the amused looks that Daisy and Oliver shared as she quickly moved down the steps, towards the vacant game table in the middle of the row. Setting her beer on the table's edge, she immediately began gathering the mess of colored balls scattered over the green felt, placing them into the triangular rack.

"Ren," Oliver began with a wicked grin, following Daisy down the steps and stopping at the head of the table, "Is there something you want to tell us?"

"Nope." Ren answered defiantly, rolling the balls back and forth in the rack and avoiding his gaze.

Oliver raised his brows playfully as he glanced back at Daisy, before moving to grab a cue from the bracket on the wall. "Ren has a crush." He sang, grinning mercilessly as he teased her.

Ren swiftly looked up from the table, her mouth set in a severe line as she stated very matter-of-factly, "You know I can hurt you, right?"

Oliver just continued to chuckle, enjoying her discomfort immensely as he tossed her a cue, "You break."

Two more beers and a round of pool later, and Ren had only temporarily succeeded in getting Oliver to drop the subject. Their fragile armistice was almost immediately broken. Every few turns, he would take another subtle jab at her, probing for as much information as possible without out being overly pushy. But, much to his chagrin, Ren had remained tight-lipped throughout his entire interrogation, focusing instead on the game in front of her.

"Well, at least tell us his name?" He sighed dramatically, leaning on his cue and scowling at her, "There can't be any harm in that, now can there?"

Ren began gathering the balls from around the table, nonchalantly replacing them into the triangular rack for another game. "It's Owen." She answered him sharply, not looking up from her task, "Owen Grady."

"Owen Grady?" Daisy tested the name on her lips with a dreamy smile before downing the last of her daiquiri, "Mmmmm…"

Oliver snickered, glancing over at Daisy and shaking his head, "Look out, Ren. Looks like you've got some competition."

Daisy choked, lightheartedly punching Oliver in the arm before she burst into a fit of giggles.

Ren watched the two of them hanging off of one another as they cackled drunkenly, and she could not help but smile herself. As annoyed as she was with them, the sound was infectious, lightening the air around them, and forcing her to let go of her resentment. And, before she knew what was happening, she was laughing along with them. The embarrassed heat in her face was soothed away and transformed into a warmth that seemed to spread out from her center.

She removed the rack from the table, still chuckling, when suddenly the acrid scent of Axe body spray and vodka crashed over her.

"Ah, hell." She breathed, her jubilant mood immediately turning bitter. She watched out of her periphery as Clive Thompson strutted towards her, his every step causing her aggravation to mount, and her grip on her pool cue to tighten.

"God," Daisy muttered, rolling her eyes, "Can't this guy get a clue?"

Oliver quickly moved to stand on Ren's right, leaning back against the table with the end of his cue resting casually on the ground between his legs, "Guy would need to have a clue before he could get one."

Ren slowly brought her Corona to her lips, humming in agreement as she forced herself to take a calculated sip, "Hmm…"

"Hey there…" Thompson cooed presumptuously as he claimed the spot to her immediate left, cocking his head as he looked down on her with a transparent smile, "I saw you over here, and I just thought, 'what the hell? I'll give her one last chance?'"

Ren gingerly set her beer down on the table, forcing herself to look straight ahead as she responded evenly, "I'm not interested."

"Damn shame." Thompson persisted, running two of his unusually rough fingers up the skin of her forearm, "This might be your last shot…"

Her eyes dropped coldly to his hand as he shamelessly continued to caress her arm. Bumps rose on her skin as it began to crawl, and her stomach preformed a disgusted flip, sending bile up into her throat.

"Hey, Fuck-face?" Oliver snapped viciously, "She said she's not interested!"

Thompson dropped his hand, immediately shifting his testosterone fueled attentions towards the other man, "What'd you just call me? You little faggot?"

Ren felt Oliver rise to his feet, just as she felt the wood of the cue in her grip crack. The edges of her vision dimmed, turning a violent shade of red as her gaze shot up to Thompson's face, locking intently on his cruel eyes as he took a step towards her friend. In a single, fluid movement, she inserted herself into is path and looped her left hand around the back of his neck. Firmly grabbing him by the back of his skull, she thrust his head downward, sending his face careening into the solid edge of pool table with a sickening _crunch_.

Thompson shrieked in pained surprise as blood burst from his nose and upper lip. He urgently clasped his hands over his face as the bright crimson liquid streamed through his fingers and down his chin, stumbling backwards blindly and struggling to full erect himself.

"Crazy bitch!" He screamed at her, the words distorted by his gushing injuries.

Ren calmly discarded the broken pool cue onto the table, replying stonily, "You just lost your dignity. Keep this shit up, and I guarantee you'll lose something else." She ran her fingers up through her unruly hair, tossing it over her shoulder as she turned away from him, "Leave. Before you do something we both regret."

She could smell the change in him. The sharp scent of adrenaline immediately began seeping from his pores. Her nostrils flared, capturing the aggressive odor as she heard his feet shift on the hardwood.

Thompson rushed her. Ren promptly pivoted on her heels, easily dodging his punch and capturing his wrist in her iron grip. She used his own momentum against him, swiftly spinning him around and shoving him in the opposite direction. He lost his balance, just as she jabbed the heel of her sneaker into the curve of his ass, sending him plummeting head-first into the nearest table. Drinks and chicken wings flew everywhere as the wood collapsed under his fall, sending the surrounding chairs skittering away on their sides as he slumped heavily to the floor.

Applause suddenly erupted from the small crowd that had gathered, accompanied by raucous hoots of approval and laughter. The hair on Ren's neck stood on end, and she felt her cheeks flush brighter than before. She had been completely oblivious to the growing mass of spectators, and the sudden revelation that she had an audience sent a jolt of panic arching up her spine. She felt inexplicably and utterly exposed as her eyes darted from face to face, unable to hide her sudden discomfort. And, when her gaze landed on Owen Grady's, she took a physical step back.

He was standing towards the back of the mob with his strong arms folded firmly over his broad chest, and his unnerving cobalt eyes locked squarely on her. Even at a distance, his stature was imposing. He towered over those around him, his physique unyielding in a sea of fluid bodies. His jaw was set distressingly tight, grinding his teeth behind the severe line of his mouth. And, though there was no blatant animosity or anger on his face, he was far from entertained.

Their eyes met. Owen tilted his head just slightly, raising his brows and pursing his lips under the reddish stubble on his face. His expression became harder to read with every passing moment, turning even more cryptic as the corner of his mouth pulsed faintly and his cheek twitched.

Ren's face was burning painfully. She bit down on the inside of her bottom lip and coyly dropped her eyes to the ground, inhaling sharply through her nose. She hurriedly reclaimed her beer from the table, downing the last of it in a single swallow. And, after a brief pause to steel her nerves, she allowed her eyes to return to the spot where Owen had stood, but he was gone. Vanished in a fraction of a second. And, somehow, that made her feel even worse.

She heard a groan as Thompson awkwardly picked himself up off the floor. Managing to scramble to his feet, he hurried for the exit still holding his face. The jeering laughter followed him through the length of the bar as Ren turned her attention to his fleeing form reluctantly. He collided clumsily with several chairs and customers, before finally bursting though the swinging doors and disappearing out into the parking lot.

Tapping her little finger anxiously against the bottom of the empty bottle in her hand, she took another deep breath as she turned back to Oliver. He was practically beaming at her, his expression full of delighted surprise.

"Friggin' _Xena_!" He laughed loudly, grabbing onto Daisy's shoulder as he practically doubled over with glee, "What'd I tell you?"

Ren rolled her eyes, plucking her damaged cue from the pool table and growling flatly, "It's your turn to break."

* * *

 **Please review! Thank you!**


	12. Chapter 10

**This story is a crossover between** _ **Jurassic World**_ **and the X-Men Cinematic Universe. This story take place a few months before the incident on Isla Nublar, and 3 years after Wolverine wakes up in the new timeline at the end of** _ **X-Men: Days of Future Past**_ **.**

 **All** _ **X-Men**_ **characters belong to Marvel Entertainment and Fox. All characters from** _ **Jurassic World**_ **belong to Universal Pictures. I own all original characters.**

 **This story is Rated T for language and adult situations.**

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

Nowhere's nightly party had dwindled, and the last call for alcohol was looming on the clock above the bar.

Renegade was thankful that the excitement had finally dissipated. Her encounter with Clive Thompson had plunged her further into the thicket of stress and anxiety that she had been desperately trying to escape. For a brief moment, she had begun to feel like she might actually belong here on Isla Nublar. But, in that single, violent act, Thompson had stolen that feeling from her, forcing her to remind herself that she was different from these people.

One faulty move, and Ren knew she could be exposed. And, she was painfully aware of the consequences of exposure.

Leaning against the paneled wall, Ren watched in silence as Daisy and Oliver continued their skirmish on the pool table. She had elected to observe, rather than partake in any more of the night's activities. Which, mercifully, had become easier as the night drummed on, and her friends had begun to feel full the effects of their drinks. They were practically the only ones left in the building now, with only a handful of other patrons still dotting the main floor. The music had been shut off out on the patio, the neon signs had all gone dark, and the lights in the far back of the bar had been dimmed as the staff began their nightly cleaning ritual.

"Oh! Come on!" Oliver exclaimed as Daisy sent a ball spinning down the green felt and into the left corner pocket, "You said you sucked at pool!"

Daisy just giggled and shrugged humbly, gliding around the table and lining up her next shot.

Oliver turned to Ren, pointing at the wide-eyed blonde accusingly, "She's hustling me, isn't she?" He reeled back around, shouting reproachfully, "You're hustling me, aren't you?"

Daisy shrugged again, flashing him a sinister grin as she effortlessly bounced another ball off the table's edge, and into the right-center pocket.

He snorted in disbelief, smirking mischievously back at her, "Oh… It's on now, bitch!"

Ren shook her head wearily as she pushed herself off of the wall. "Sorry guys," She yawned, dropping her fifth empty bottle of the night onto a nearby stool. She stretched her arms above her head, feeling relief flow down through her shoulders as she moved passed the table, "But, it's off for me."

"No!" Daisy whined, still quite intoxicated, despite having stopped drinking sometime ago, "You have to stay and watch me finishing kicking Oliver's ass!"

Ren shrugged apologetically, climbing the short set of stairs and stepping out onto the main floor, "I've got work in the morning. But, you make sure to kick it good."

"Hey!" Oliver called, mocking offense, "Traitor!"

The night air was as humid as ever, though the temperature had dropped some. Ren took a deep breath through her mouth as she stepped through the swinging double doors, tasting the rich foliage of the jungle on her tongue. The wind had picked up slightly, light and refreshing against her sticky skin, and she could hear the soothing roar of the waves crashing along the nearby beach.

The parking lot was practically deserted. The only light came from the large, overhead lamp hanging above the building's entrance. She rubbed at her tired eyes as she took a step into the darkness, when an all too familiar aroma drifted towards her on the breeze.

"Hey!" She heard Owen call from across the gravel lot, "New-girl!"

Startled, Ren recoiled, immediately clenching her hands into fists as she whipped her head around.

Owen was seated on the Triumph, mounted with his long legs straddling the motorcycle just outside the sphere of yellow light. The striking machine's matte green paint had been distorted into an inky shade of gray, and the shadows cast by the synthetic glow played handsomely on his chiseled features. His dominating gaze lingered on her as he sat up straighter, resting one hand on the buckle of his belt, and the other on the handlebars.

For a moment, Ren was unsure of what to do. She remained rooted to the spot, watching him warily from a distance as her heart hammered against her sternum.

She was relieved to find his expression was void of any anger, or general displeasure. To the contrary, he seemed relatively calm at the moment. And, though his sudden appearance had been jarring, and his presence was still distressing to her, it did not feel threatening or hostile.

Ren slowly slipped her thumbs through the belt-loops of her denim shorts, griping onto the fabric anxiously as she closed the gap between them.

"Nice bike." She commented, struggling to keep her tone casual as she came to a tense stop beside him, "Should have figured it was yours."

With his positioning on the cycle, their faces were nearly level with one another, and Ren could not help but notice how his high cheekbones and a strong jaw were more distinct under the callous light. The fine lines around his eyes and mouth seemed to add a distinguished air to his features as the supple line of his lips curled gently into a smile. His intimidating eyes unexpectedly brightened as the rigid muscles of his face unwound. His whole demeanor changed in an instant, and she felt a renewed warmth flood her face as she blushed, suddenly very grateful for the poor lighting.

Ren bit down on her bottom lip, bashfully dropping her gaze as she brushed a stray curl away from her face.

"Hop on." Owen proposed with a beckoning jut of his chin, his voice surprisingly easy-going, "I'll give you a ride."

"What?" Her eyes went wide, bounding back up to his face, "No!"

Owen arched his brows.

"I mean…" Ren took a deep breath as her stomach did a summersault, glancing up at the stars as she struggled to correct her uncouth behavior, "I just… ah… Thanks for the offer, but… No. That's okay. Really. I'd rather...um…ah…"

"Walk?" He offered dryly.

"Right. That." She took a hurried step backwards, flashing him an overly enthusiastic smile, "But, have a good night."

Ren was about to turn and leave, when the wind suddenly shifted. She stopped at once, her veins running cold as the pungent mixture of vodka, Axe, and blood, drifted under her nose. She sniffed the air vigilantly as the stench coiled in her nostrils, burning with the unmistakable metallic taint of rage.

"Ren." Owen appealed to her, shifting forward subtly on his seat. His tone was still calm, but there was a distinct, dire edge to it, "Get on the bike."

She swallowed thickly, her mouth going dry as she allowed her eyes to briefly meet with his. He urgently shifted his attention behind her, and then back again, his smile waning ominously as his grip tightened on the handlebars.

Discreetly, Ren lifted her gaze towards the far end of the building. Her feral eyes easily saw passed the stagnant shine of the lamp, locking acutely on the movement beyond and magnifying.

Thompson. The ACU trooper's overly macho shape was instantly recognizable. She could see him there in the dark, little more than the outline of a shadow as he lay in wait.

"Come on," Owen began insistently, his tenor dropping an octave.

On impulse, Ren again clutched her hands into fists. Her fierce amber eyes fixed securely onto the obscure figure as she felt her claws shifting down through the bones of her wrists, and slicing through the muscles of her hands. Ignoring the sharp agony they brought, she gritted her teeth behind her lips as wild growl rose up in the back of her throat. That was when, without warning, the wind shifted again. In an instant, Owen's fragrant fusion of soap, engine grease, and that sweet-smelling something else, swept over her.

"I'll take you home."

Ren inhaled deeply. The aromatics of his scent permeated her every pore, and her building fury seemed to dissolve. Slowly dropping her gaze to her hands, Ren felt the razor edged metal under her skin retract into her forearms as she pensively began massaging her knuckles. An unprecedented, new fear suddenly took hold of her, and she wavered on her feet as every impulse in her person urged her to comply with him.

Cold sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades as she carefully pulled the hair tie from around her wrist. Looping it around her fingers, she gathered her long locks and secured them in a hurried knot at the base of her skull, taking a hesitant step towards the bike.

The Triumph had a single seat, and Owen's solid frame filled it easily. Ren would have to ride on the steel luggage rack attached to the seatback, but comfort was the least of her concerns as she watched Owen casually reached around to lower the passenger's foot pegs.

Owen hit the ignition switch as she swung her leg over. The bike thundered to life under them, but her movement climbing on had been too tentative. She was forced to grasp onto his shoulder to keep her balance, immediately taken aback by the unyielding feel of the muscle under the cotton of his shirt. Hastily releasing her grip, she grabbed onto the underside of the rack to steady herself instead, her heart sinking with dread as the back shocks dipped under her weight.

The motorcycle's single headlight flared on as Owen glanced at her over his shoulder. He sighed, shaking his head pityingly as he swiftly reached behind him. Ren had to stifle an alarmed gasp as his hand brashly clutched onto her bare thigh. His immense palm was searing hot against her skin as he yanked her forward, positioning her so that she was flush against his back. Reaching rearward a second time, he seized hold of her wrists, wrapping her arms around his middle and calling loudly over the roar of the exhaust, "You're going to want to hang on!"

Ren had forgotten how to breathe. She interlocked her fingers against his abdomen, feeling the warm, brawny muscles underneath as they rose and fell with his breath. And, she prayed that he would not notice her shaking body over the vibrations of the engine.

Owen revved the throttle and the pipes screamed eagerly. Ren tighten her grip as he released the brake. The back tire kicked up a cloud of pebbles in its wake as it skidded across the gravel in search of traction, sending them hurdling towards the road.

She had no choice but to press herself against him as they sped down the pavement at breakneck speed. Her heart was beating so fast, she was convinced that Owen could feel it pounding against his backbone as he shifted gears. The wind whipped passed them, howling in her ears alongside the echo of the pipes bouncing off the trees, winding their way down the black thoroughfare.

"What complex?" Owen shouted over his shoulder, turning his head to hear her better.

"B!" She bellowed back.

He took a right, and Ren's stomach lurched threateningly. She did her best to lean with the bike as the lights of the housing complex appeared over the treetops, and Owen wrenched the throttle. The Triumph jumped forward suddenly, racing towards the apartment buildings, and he did not let off the gas until they had crossed the threshold of the parking lot. Pulling smoothly into a space between two park Mercedes, he cut the engine.

He used the heel of his boot to extend the kickstand, allowing the motorcycle to lean solidly to the left. Ren practically leapt from the bike, not even bothering to try and avoid the hot exhaust pipes as she took several steps away, the red burn on her calf quickly healing as she withdrew her hands from around his stomach.

"Thanks for the ride." She muttered, her fingers still tingling from the feel of him, "I…ah…appreciate it."

"You've been on a bike before?" He inquired, smoothly dismounting.

Ren was not entirely sure if that was a question, or a statement. "Yeah." She shrugged uncertainly, "I'm just not used to riding with someone else, is all."

He rested his hand back on the buckle of his belt as a skeptical grin spread across his face, "You ride?"

"Yeah." She repeated curtly, taking another step backwards, "Have a good night, Mr. Gra—er— _Owen_."

"Actually," He stopped her, casually taking a step forward, "I wanted to talk to you about something. Can we go inside?"

She paled, idly folding her arms around her abdomen as her gaze traveled over Owen's well-built physique. Even relaxed, his essence was daunting, and the thought of letting him into her home troubled her. However, Ren was aware that she was far passed the point of no return here.

She had been ever since she had slashed her signature on the bottom line of that employment contract.

"Uh…Yeah." She breathed tautly, choking back her worries as she began walking toward the picket fence, "Okay."

She opened the gate, hastily stepping onto the sidewalk. The scents of the overgrown ivy and blue blossoms were minutely reassuring as Owen fell instep beside her.

"So," He began civilly, "What kind of bike do you have?"

"A Harley." Ren glanced doubtfully at him in her periphery, "Nothing special. Just a Sportster 1200."

"Yeah?" He enquired, intrigued, "What year?"

"2003."

"Anniversary edition?"

"Yep." She responded quietly, becoming more self-conscious by the second, "But, it's a piece of junk."

He shrugged indifferently as they began climbing the stairs, "All that matters is that it runs."

"Says the man riding around on the thirteen thousand dollar Scrambler." Ren retorted as they continued up the stairwell.

Owen chuckled to himself as they stepped up onto the second floor balcony, passing Daisy's empty apartment. Ren began wishing that she had waited for Daisy and Oliver to finish their game, and she cursed herself for having even allowed this situation to happen in the first place. Rounding the corner ahead of Owen, she felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end, feeling his dissecting gaze burning into her as he followed her to her apartment door.

She pulled the keys from her short's pocket as he circled to her right, leaning comfortably with his shoulder pressed against the building's siding.

"You know you have holes in your shoes?" He blurted out, his tone more intrusive than curious.

Ren whirled around with her hand still poised for the doorknob, staring up at him in panic.

Owen was leaning with his hands resting on either side of his hips. The toe of his right boot rested nonchalantly behind his left as he was stared down at her sneakers with his brow pulled together, pondering the twin holes in the toes of her Converse.

She followed his eye line, inhaling sharply. "Um…Yeah." She hurriedly fibbed, frowning as she uttered out the first lie that came into her head, "They're lucky."

"Lucky, huh?" He questioned, his tone sardonic as a cavalier smirk cut across his face.

"Yep." She answered tersely as she shoved the door open. Stepping into the air conditioning, she headed straight for the kitchen, desperate to change the subject, "Do you want a beer or something?"

"Sure." He replied, following her in.

Ren was extremely aware of his masculine presence as he entered over the doorsill, and her heart skipped a beat when she heard the latch snap shut. She forced herself not to look behind her as she crossed to the refrigerator, swinging open the stainless steel door and peering inside.

"I have Bud and Corona." She informed him, drumming her fingers impatiently on the metal, "Do you have a preference?"

"No." He answered simply, his voice coming from the direction of entryway.

Figuring him to be more of the Americana type, she grabbed two bottles of Budweiser. Setting them down on the counter and pushing the door shut, she began searching through the kitchen drawers for a bottle opener. Only a few seconds passed, however, before her search turned frantic, and Ren came to the horrifying conclusion that she did not own a bottle opener.

She glanced down at the knuckles of her right hand, curling her fingers as she swallowed knowingly.

"Here..."

Ren flinched as Owen suddenly appeared beside her, having somehow made it through the kitchen without making a sound.

Reaching passed her, he smirked puckishly, plucking the nearest bottle off of the countertop as he snickered, "Why are you so jumpy?"

She grasped onto the edge of the counter with both hands, taking a deep breath though her mouth as she tried to concentrate on slowing her racing pulse. That was a good question, she admitted to herself. One she had no real answer to. Still, she could not help but picture Owen back at Nowhere, with his strong arms folded over his broad chest, and his unnerving eyes watching her closely. She realized then, that she had been afraid, but not of him. At least, not directly.

"I didn't mean for it to go that far…" Ren muttered demurely, "Earlier… I didn't want that to… I didn't…" She swallowed again, a large lump bulging defiantly in her throat. She glanced up at him apprehensively, "Are you going to report me?"

Owen watched her carefully as his light expression faltered. The unopened beer forgotten in his hand, he scowled, grinding his teeth behind the grave line of his mouth as his brows knitted together, and he considered her thoroughly.

"Why would I report you?" He began at last, his tone somber as he reached into his pants' pocket and pulled out a large pocketknife. Holding her petrified gaze securely to his, he opened the blade with a flick of his wrist, and used it to peel the cap off of the bottle. He held it out to her genially, "If anything you should report him."

Ren felt her cheeks flush again as she accepted the drink, "I think I've drawn enough attention to myself."

"He assaulted you." Owen stated flatly, snatching the second bottle from the counter, and opening it the same fashion as he shook his head dismissively, "You shouldn't have to put up with that shit."

"I can handle it." She mumbled, looking away as she pushed passed him.

Owen made to follow her, but paused as he strutted passed the dining room table. Roguishly arching an eyebrow, he glanced down at the mess, snatching the copy of Ian Malcolm's _God Creates Dinosaurs_ from the tabletop and holding it aloft questioningly.

"My father sent me those." Ren explained briskly, her humiliation mounting.

Owen glowered at her, suddenly suspicious, "Why?"

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair anxiously. She pulled the tie from her thick mane, shaking her long curls lose, and letting them tumble down over her shoulders as she stepped into the living area, "Because he wants me off the island."

"But, you want to stay." Owen observed as he brazenly took a seat on the sofa, looking up at her in scrutiny, "Right?"

"Yes." She obliged him, "I do."

He took a sip from his beer, examining her over the bottle, "Why are you here?"

Ren frowned, sharply tapping her little finger against the bottom of her drink, "I thought we'd been over that?"

"No." He contradicted her, "We've been over why you took a job that nobody wanted."

She shifted awkwardly, setting her untouched drink down next to the television without looking at him, "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does." Owen took another swig, "Everything matters."

Ren glanced pleadingly up at the ceiling, growing more mortified with every passing moment. "I'm here because…" She licked her lips dryly, "Because… I wanted to remember what it felt like to be happy. And, for some reason, I thought I could do that here."

Leaning forward steadily, he measured her every movement, "And, have you?"

She swallowed stiffly, unable to bring herself to look at him as her voiced cracked, "Yes."

Owen continued to stare up at her in silence. Ren hurriedly diverted her gaze to the intact Budweiser beside her, feeling his unrelenting eyes stripping her down, layer by layer. Every breath she took felt like it lasted an eternity, when finally, he nodded. Solemnly lowering his gaze to the carpet, he quickly became engrossed in deep thought.

Ren folded her arms under her breasts as she crossed the room, cagily sinking down next to him. Goosebumps instantly rose on her skin, and she shoved herself into the armrest in a tactful attempt to put some space between them.

"So," She began coyly as she turned to face him, "What did you wanted to talk to me about?"

Owen sighed restlessly as he was pulled from his inner musings. He cleared his throat, leaning back onto the cushions as he ran his palm down over the stubble on his chin. His eyes bounded back to hers suddenly, hardening once again.

"You're sure," He began seriously, "that you haven't been near the paddock?"

Ren grimaced, insulted, "I told you I wouldn't."

He threw up a hand in a calming gesture. "Alright!" He urged her, sensing her offense, "I just had to ask."

"Why?" Her scowl darkened, her sharp eyes sweeping over him questioningly as her heart continued to pound against her esophagus, "What is it you want from me?"

Owen did not answer her immediately. Instead, he just continued to observe her, resting his fingers against his mouth as his eyes took another scrutinizing pass over her body. Dropping his hand, his tongue quickly darted out between his lips, licking at them edgily, "Blue is acting weird."

"Okay…" She breathed guardedly, narrowing her eyes, "Um… Who is Blue?"

Owen snorted, instantly exasperated, "The raptor."

"Oh!" Ren exclaimed, her shame returning in full. She thought back to the Velociraptor standing erect on its hind legs. Its hide had had a dark grayish-blue hue, with white and metallic cerulean streaks racing down its sides, spanning from its eyes, all the way to the tip of its long tail.

"Blue?" She reflected, running her fingers down the side of her face as she pictured the beautiful predator in her mind, "Because of the stripes?"

"Yep." Owen exhaled, his cheek twitching faintly as he watched her fingers slide down passed her jaw, tracing the imaginary markings on her own skin.

Ren paused, hundreds of questions flooding into her mind at once as her curiosity quickly began to overtake her nerves, "They don't all look like that?"

He did not say anything, but his brows puckered slightly.

"I…ah…" Ren explained, stumbling over her words, "I only saw they one."

"No." He clarified with a sigh, relaxing back in his seat, "They all have their own distinct markings."

She leaned forward slightly, captivated by that thought, "How many are there?"

"We bred four." He stated, raising the bottle back to his lips.

"But," She countered, her own brow creasing as she frowned, "Blue is the only one who's acting strangely?"

"Uh-huh." Owen affirmed with a single nod.

Ren sank back, beginning to understand his line of inquiry, "And, you think it's because of me?"

He nodded again, "It started the day you arrived. And, she only does it when you're on site. So, stands to reason that you might have something to do with it."

"What exactly is it that she's doing?" Ren asked quietly, her stomach churning as anxiety began to creep its way back into her thoughts.

"We don't really know." Owen replied gravely, taking a reflective sip from his beer before continuing, "We've never seen this behavior before. It's not hunting behavior, per say. It's more like she's searching for something."

"You want me to leave?" She asked suddenly, her eyes widening in dismay.

"What?" Owen choked, spitting his mouthful of beer back into the bottle. "No." He stated adamantly, shaking his head as he sat forward again, "No. We want to see if he can recreate the behavior. And, document it."

She swallowed hoarsely, "And, how exactly would you do that?"

"Well," He began, fidgeting with the bottle in his, "We would let Blue get a good look at you, for starters." He took a deep breath, like he knew exactly how she would react to what he was about to say next, " _Up close._ "

Ren muffled a surprised gasp, gaping back at him wordlessly.

"And then," He continued agilely, "We'd just…see what she does."

"What she does?" She questioned, dazed as she pushed herself further back into the armrest.

"You'd be perfectly safe." Owen hastily assured her, "I'll be right beside you the whole time." He leaned in further, his face barely a foot from hers as his tone unexpectedly turned empathetic, "I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise."

Ren continued to stare back at him, the glistening sincerity in his eyes mingling with his alluring scent. The potent mixture quickly overwhelmed her, and again she founder herself wanting to comply with him.

Wanting to please him.

"When you say 'document'…" She began unsteadily, "How exactly would you do that?"

"Well," He answered her, relaxing further forward on the sofa, "We would observe your interaction. Take some notes." He shifted comfortably, resting with his elbow by her thigh as he lifted the bottle to his mouth casually, "And, of course, we would film it."

Ren watched him swallow, the world rapidly slowing down around her as her heartbeat pounded deafeningly in her ears. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he moved even closer, reassuringly placing his free hand over hers and squeezing it gently. His skin was hot. Its warmth rushed up her arm, settling vividly in her face. She inhaled sharply, watching the condensation drip down the bottle by his mouth, before she suddenly leapt to her feet. Hurriedly turning her back on him, she took several panicked strides across the room.

"This is an InGen experiment?" She questioned shrilly, fearful of his answer, though she already knew what it would be.

"Well, yeah." Owen answered tentatively, his voice suddenly filling with concern as he too stood, taking a step towards her, "Are you alright?"

Ren held her quivering hands out in front of her, staring down at them and imagining molten metal glowing bright under her skin. She could practically smell it searing her flesh as it adhered to her bones.

Frantically replacing her arms around her abdomen, she hugged herself to hide her shaking limbs, spinning back around before asking timidly, "Can I take the night to think about it?"

Owen's gaze turned almost tender as he stared down on her, the fine creases of his face deepening in a troubled frown. "Yeah…" He almost whispered, his tone heavy with worry, "Of course…"

She nodded, forcing a smile back onto her face, "Okay, then."

"Okay, then." He repeated, taking another step forward.

"Well, ah…" Ren quickly shied away, taking a small step backwards and dropping her eyes to the carpet as she ran her fingers through her unruly hair, "Goodnight."

He reached around her, causing her to jump for the third time than night. He gingerly set his half empty bottle on the television stand, next to hers. Cautiously backing away, his hand once again found its way to his belt buckle.

"Goodnight." He wished her kindly, already moving towards the door. Tugging it open and stepping back out into the thick night air, he ran his fingers through his mess of russet hair, and frowned. He turned back, holding out his hand to her wantonly, before letting it drop to his side. He sighed deeply as he shook his head regretfully.

"For what it's worth," Owen told her earnestly, "I'm really sorry for how things started out between us." A small smile touched his lips, sending warmth back into his domineering eyes, "You're really not what I expected."

"Yeah." Ren voiced meekly, resting her hand on the back of the door, "I've been hearing that a lot lately."

The corner of his mouth twitched as he nodded back to her, "I'll see you in the morning."

"It is morning." Ren informed him, allowing an elusive smile to touch her lips.

"Well," He began, returning her subtle grin with one of his own as he smoothly ambled backwards, down the walkway, "I guess I'll see you in a couple hours, then."

Their eyes met for a split second. Ren leaned into the door, resting her cheek on its edge as she swayed nimbly on her toes. She felt warmth flush her face again, but this time was different. Instead of feeling overwhelming discomfort, she felt overcome with a kind of elation. Her heart fluttered pleasantly under her ribs, spreading unbridled heat swelling through her entire body.

"Sleep tight." He called, winking at her playfully, before turning on his heel with a surprising amount of pose, "Don't let the carnivores bite."

Ren stood in her doorway, staring after him as he swiftly disappeared around the corner. She was not sure how long she stood there afterwards, with her pulse still throbbing dully in her temples, but her breathing became shallower with every passing moment. She swallowed awkwardly, but the lump in her throat refused to budge as she shut the door, collapsing with her back pressed against the cool plaster. Sliding down to the floor, she forced herself to take a series of slow, deep breaths in a vague effort to slow her speeding thoughts.

She held her quaking hands out in front of her, watching inertly as her claws split the skin between her knuckles, sending drops of blood spilling down the backs of her hands before it could reseal itself around the Adamantium blades. She bit down on her tongue, stifling a cry as she forced herself to feel every painful inch of the razor edges as they fully extended.

"InGen…" She whispered to herself, a shiver ripping down her spine as she compelled herself to stare at them.

After a lengthy pause, she sheathed her claws back into her forearms with a sharp _snikt_ , watching as the holes in her skin shrank into nothing and the sting vanished. She pressed her face in her knees, taking yet another deep breath as she tried to sooth her many mounting fears.

Ren could still smell Owen. His rich aroma had completely saturated the air around her, and she could not help but take it in hungrily as she ran her fingers down the fine bones of her hand. Her skin was still warm from where he had touched her, and Ren could not stop herself from picturing the sincerity in his eyes, and the gentleness of that smile on his face.

She sat there for a long time, caught between her natural instincts for self-preservation, and her terrifying new desire to obey Owen Grady.

Sighing in despair, Ren slowly rose back onto her feet, growling to herself as she passed the two umber beer bottles on the television stand. She staggered into the hallway, distractedly running her fingers along the length of the wall as she moved into her bedroom, and collapsed solidly onto the unmade mattress with a defeated grunt. And, she stared blankly up at the dark ceiling, at a total loss for what to do, come sunrise.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! The response for Chapter Nine was so incredible that I had to hurry up an finish Chapter Ten! I hope you enjoyed it! And, as always, reviews are welcome!**


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